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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460245">What Comes After</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wantingfornothing/pseuds/wantingfornothing'>wantingfornothing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, F/M, Interstellar travel, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:01:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wantingfornothing/pseuds/wantingfornothing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As the world reels from the aftermath of the Blip, the Avengers disassemble. Sam, Bucky, and Wanda are left aimless, until one night when they begin having prophetic dreams warning of a cosmic inference to Natasha's death.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>243</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Waking Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my answer to Endgame.</p><p>This has been in the works for a few months now. My approach was to write the entire first segment before posting any chapters, so that I can aim to update this weekly until the story is completed. At the time of initial posting, one third of the story has been written, and I know how it will end. This is the canon compliant, post-Endgame SteveNat fic you've been waiting for.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PROLOGUE</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“What is done cannot be undone.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s a fair trade.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“This exchange cannot be returned.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re lying.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You misunderstand. It cannot be returned by one such as yourself.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Clint, then.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The living have no dominion over the souls of the sacrificed. She is well beyond your grasp, soldier.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t call me that. In this timeline she only died moments ago.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And yet, she is already far away from here. You should rest well with the knowledge that her sacrifice has been accepted.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Accepted?...She didn’t want this! She doesn’t-“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ah, but how do you know that?”</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>He could observe the faint aura of an unusually crimson horizon. His body felt cold, moist. His hand rose above his face, and he studied the droplets coating his skin. It hit him then that he was lying in a shallow pool of water. Confused, he rose from the ground, assessing the surroundings. The pool was engulfed by an endless expanse of desert in every direction. There was an odd feeling of tranquility upon observing the scene, quickly replaced by a sense of urgency. He felt compelled to walk toward the setting sun, until he reached it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Moist clothes sticking to his spine and the back of his thighs, he trudged along the dunes for what seemed like hours. Heat waves bounced off the ground in the distance, morphing the skyline into a swirl of colours, until he reached a point close enough to discern what he was really witnessing; a wave of flames, climbing above the horizon, swallowing the desert whole, picking up speed in its path. He instinctively turned to begin running back in the direction he came from. He had to reach the pool again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His feet felt heavy with each hurried step, sinking deep into the layers of sand. The anomaly produced a roaring sound, that told him it was rapidly approaching his rear. He glanced back and forth as he ran, and suddenly, a glowing figure began to emerge from the fiery mass, slowly but surely, the identity of the figure all too recognizable. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was her. Natasha.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His eyes widened, and he felt his stomach sink upon observing her void expression. In a mix of confusion, the terrain beneath his feet gave way. He was falling back into the pool, clear as glass with the flames crashing down upon it.</em>
</p><p>Sam awoke with an abrupt breath. Sitting up, he slid himself off of the side of the bed. It still felt strange to be back. Some mornings, it really took him a few moments to adjust. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BOOK ONE: SAM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Sunlight peered through the blinds, casting a warm glow into the otherwise dull room. He missed the compound. </p><p>He, Bucky, and Wanda had been staying at an Avengers outpost in New Jersey for the last five months, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The world was still mourning Tony Stark, but it had picked up the pieces Thanos had left. Things were different now, they could all see it, but still, people were attempting to rebuild their lives.</p><p>After the battle, most of the heroes who had assembled reconnected with family. Some went their separate ways, others, back into the deep, dark crevices of space. The three of them frankly had no where else to go. The government had finally relinquished hunting them, but after being fugitives for so long, Sam wasn’t sure they were capable of settling down. Wanda had lost Vision. James was finally a free man after seventy odd years, and Sam, sometimes he still needed to hear the sound of his own heartbeat just to remind him he was alive. He’d lost his house in DC during the blip; there was nothing else to go back to. They were the only active members of the team left.</p><p>Steve had passed away a few weeks after the day he left to return the stones. Sam was still trying to wrap his head around it. And returning to find out that Natasha had been killed in action had hit him unbearably hard. In what felt like an instant, his closest comrades were gone. Bucky and Wanda had naturally let Sam slide into a sort of leadership role, no doubt as he was made the bearer of Steve’s legacy. A part of him resented Steve for leaving; for leaving him with that, at a time when they were so lost and confused. But he had also come to realize that the “blip” took a greater toll on those who remained living. In the brief time he had seen him after resurrecting, he could tell that Steve wasn’t the same. Then losing Natasha <em>and</em> Tony had been too much. So Sam couldn’t entirely blame him for going back. He imagined the absolute state of despair that the living world had been left to rot in, it was enough to give him chills.</p><p>He changed into a fresh t-shirt and jeans, attempting to shake off the vivid dream. It had felt all too real. A part of him wondered if it was a side effect of dying; like so many resurrected souls in myths, cursed to keep seeing the dead.</p><p>Suddenly, a piercing scream could be heard from down the hall. </p><p>Wanda. </p><p>Sam bolted for her room, running into Bucky in the doorway. </p><p>“Wanda?” the soldier asked hesitantly, before slowly pushing the door open.</p><p>She was sitting up, breathing heavily, light evidence of a cold sweat adorning her temples. Sam moved to comfort her, rubbing his thumb across her forehead, “It was just a dream,” he assured her softly, “I’ve been having them too.”</p><p>“...felt different,” she winced. Then she held out her palms so the two of them could see. Fresh burn marks trailed their way across her skin. Bucky raised his brows at the sight. She stared vacantly into Sam’s eyes, “I saw her. There was a ring of fire...desert night. It swallowed me whole,” her voice was almost a whisper.</p><p>Bucky began to turn pale. “Natasha,”</p><p>Sam swallowed hard, not wanting to believe it. He turned to face him, “How do you know?”</p><p>“Because I just had the exact same dream.”</p><p>***</p><p>“You realize this sounds absolutely insane right?” Bruce‘s hologram addressed the three of them in the facility’s common room. </p><p>“Yeah no shit,” Bucky rubbed a palm across his forehead. </p><p>“How the hell is it possible all three of us had the exact same dream, at the exact same time?” Sam pressed. </p><p>“Because it was a vision,” Wanda interjected.</p><p>“Wanda could have subconsciously passed her dream to you guys telekinetically, it’s not conclusive evidence of some...supernatural intervention,”Bruce waved his hands in the air, “You were both sleeping in the vicinity.”</p><p>Wanda shook her head, “I can’t do it subconsciously. It takes a tremendous amount of focus and power.”</p><p>“So...what? Are we saying something out there is using Wanda as a conduit-reaching out across lightyears of space?”</p><p>“Something, or someone?” Bucky murmured. </p><p>“No,” Bruce declared, “Absolutely not. We’re not seriously suggesting this?” He scanned the remaining Avengers for signs of doubt. “I snapped my fingers! She was gone.”</p><p>Sam took a deep breath, “I know how it sounds,” he uncrossed his arms, gesturing toward Wanda, “This anomaly left physical imprints on Wanda’s arms. She may be the reason Buck and I also had the dream, but she’s not the source.”</p><p>“And who is the source? ..Natasha?” The end of her name left his lips in a whisper.</p><p>The three of them just stared at Bruce with unblinking eyes.</p><p>“If there was even a chance she could come back, Steve would have found it...when he returned the stone.” Bruce sighed and continued, “They were close the last few years. He was...the only person who stayed with her after we all left.”</p><p>“We’ll never know for sure,” Sam folded his arms across his chest, “He never came back.”</p><p>“Maybe that’s for the best,” Bruce murmured.</p><p>***</p><p>The three of them ate in silence that night, each contemplating the potential implications of what they had seen, and reflecting on Bruce’s words. He was right, Sam had thought. It was crazy. Still, neither of them could shake the feeling. Maybe it was the way Sam could feel his heart beat during those few moments in which he thought they might have purpose again; finally surfacing after a deep dive. And now they were plunged underneath once again.</p><p>
  <em>The crimson sky burned a line of fire across the cooling horizon. Dusk enveloped the rocky terrain. Why was this place so familiar? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dunes stretched across the expanse of terrain in every direction. His intuition told him to head toward the horizon; aimlessly, he trudged along, entranced by the odd sense of compulsion. After a while, the ground became stiff, and rocky, with sand pooling in various divots. He could feel his path reach a slight incline. Gradually, he could feel the steepness increase in his steps, and the next thing he knew, he was looking over the edge of a very high cliff. Bewildered, he spun around to witness the vast crater behind him, teeming with molten heat against an indigo sky.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He began to panic, frantically surveying the area, but it was too late. The eruption had begun. The earth below tremored, and rock was hurled from above. Instinctively, he threw his hands over his head. He scanned the area for shelter, and that’s when he saw someone stumbling out from behind the rock, across the crater, and looking in his direction.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bucky. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sam!” Bucky shouted, waving his arms and then shaking his head in confusion.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We need to find a way down!” Sam insisted. More rock was hurdled from the crater, and the tremors picked up again, almost knocking both men onto their feet. Sam took a deep breath before making a mad dash in Bucky’s direction, dodging debris in his path. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was knocked down when the entire earth below him shook, the walls of the crater suddenly beginning to crack and buckle. The entire mountain split in two down the middle, and then, flying up out of the craters depths, Wanda appeared, looking battered and dusty, and barely latching onto the edge where Sam sat peering over.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What’s going on?!” he had to yell to be heard over the soundtrack of the eruption. Through his peripheral, he could see Bucky reaching the two of them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“She’s coming,” Wanda gasped out, defeated. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Who?!” Bucky glanced about frantically as he and Sam pulled Wanda up over the ledge.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As if on cue, the crater rumbled again. Wanda threw her shield up to block her friends from the debris. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Something was emerging from the centre, glowing molten yellow. As the figure ascended from the pools of lava, its identity was realized.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sam felt his chest sink and his mouth gape in both awe and fear as he uttered her name with a shaky breath. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Natasha.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Get back!” Wanda motioned for Sam and Bucky to get behind her as she prepared her shields again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As she regained form, Natasha rolled her neck from back to front, now facing them with a blank stare</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What is this? What‘s happening?” He asked again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When Wanda didn’t answer, Sam silently pleaded, searching Natasha’s eyes for any sign of his friend. All he could find was a void. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natasha, or the thing that looked like her, raised her hand, sending a wave of more smelted rock hurdling in their direction, which Wanda blocked and disintegrated with her shields. Her knees buckled in the process. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nat!” Sam begged. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>In the instance of hearing her name, Natasha raised a brow, and with squinted eyes and slightly parted lips, tilted her head to the side. She held eye contact with Sam for an extended moment. But then the moment was gone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Before anyone could react, Natasha reached out and took hold of both of Wanda’s arms. There was a subtle hissing noise, followed by a simmering orange glow, and an agonizing scream from Wanda’s lips.</em>
</p><p>“Wanda!” Sam jumped from his bed, awake, and immediately aware of what was transpiring. He took off down the hall toward her room. </p><p>Wanda was already on her feet when Sam and Bucky were nudging open her door. She held out her arms so they could observe what she was staring at: several rows of strange glyphs branded across her flesh. </p><p>“What the hell?” Bucky whispered, bewildered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Decryption</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The remaining Avengers attempt to form a conclusion about their recurring nightmares.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yay, a (relatively) timely update! This chapter is a little shorter due to the overall flow of Book One, but nonetheless productive. More exciting developments to come!</p><p>Thanks to everyone who left comments! I enjoy reading all of them, and throughout the story I will respond to those asking questions.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s incredible,” Bruce remarked as he studied Wanda’s tiny arm, holding it with his fingers, “I thought we were way out of line here, but this...”</p><p>“Now the green dude is ready to believe in miracles,” Sam quipped, punctuating the comment with a smirk.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” </p><p>“Only at first,” Wanda replied, turning her wrist to study the markings, “Whatever it is, it’s mystical,” she turned to meet Sam’s gaze with a half smile. </p><p>“Wanda couldn’t have done this Bruce,” Sam declared, arms folded across his chest, “this is a language none of us recognize. It’s...alien.”</p><p>“I know,” he replied softly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Why do you think I came out here?” He paused, “Though, I don’t have the slightest idea how to even begin transcribing this.”</p><p>“We need to find somebody who can...and fast.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Sam turned to Wanda with furrowed brows.</p><p>“These dreams are trying to warn me of something, I can feel it. I don’t think we should take this lightly,” Wanda swallowed. When no one replied she continued, “She died in a ritual sacrifice for an elemental stone on a strange planet. That’s no normal death. What if there were...cosmic side effects?”</p><p>“Could we even stop it?” Bucky murmured, “...if it was?”</p><p>Bruce sighed, “I’m hoping we’ll find the answers here,” he looked down to inspect the glyphs more intently, “Most of these symbols appear to be..derivative of one another. It’s like...they all have a similar base value, with slight visual alterations.”</p><p>“Like a number system?” Bucky deduced.</p><p>“Potentially,” Bruce nodded, his eyes suddenly ignited with resolve. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he called out into the open room, “Can we get a scan of this inscription?” </p><p>The remnant of Tony’s legacy came to life at once, blue light washing over the data before them.</p><p>“I don’t think the A.I. is gonna be able to help us on this one,” Sam declared.</p><p>
  <em>“Origin of the markings is unknown, as is the physical cause of Ms. Maximoff’s ailments–"</em>
</p><p>“Yeah, I get that, what can we deduce about the physical structure of the glyphs?”</p><p>
  <em>“I can suspect they are to be read vertically, given the distance ratio between the vertical and horizontal tracking of the individual characters. There appears to be two base form structures, each situated on its own baseline, and with several variations.”</em>
</p><p>“How many variations can you detect?”</p><p>
  <em>“Eighty-one for the first, fourteen for the second.”</em>
</p><p>“F.R.I.D.A.Y. subtract all offshoot structures from the image.” The hologram before them morphed into a simplification of its former self. Bruce plopped back into his chair, punctuated with a grin and a breathy laugh. “What does that look like to you, kiddos?”</p><p>Sam squinted, observing the expansive pattern of two distinct symbols, repeated in varying increments. His eyes went wide as the answer finally clicked in his brain. “Holy shit. It’s morse.”</p><p> </p><p>“Morse code was invented by humans, on earth,” astounded, Bucky softly asserted what they all knew, with a fleeting hint of a smile. </p><p>“So...what does it say?” Sam pressed.</p><p>Bruce picked up the nearby tablet screen, sliding the hologram image into its system, “Let’s find out.”</p><p>“What about the rest of the data shrouding the code?” Wanda glanced down at her arms once more, eyes scanning the symbols, “Was it just a disguise, or does it mean something?”</p><p>“Eighty-one fourteen,” Bruce muttered to himself, “Eight...one...one...four...shit.” His eyes widened and he could feel himself turning pale. “It’s a date stamp. That’s the date I put in the quantum tunnel to send the team to Morag. That’s–that’s the day she died.” His last few words escaped his lips in an anxious huff.</p><p>“God.” Sam wiped a hand across his forehead, bracing himself. He glanced at Wanda, her eyes glistening with a swirling mixture of shock and hopefulness.</p><p>“So...if the message is dated 2014, why are we just receiving it now?” Bucky inquired.</p><p>Bruce eyed the tablet screen again, “I think you’re on to something. You were right, Bucky. The code translates to a bunch of numbers, with the odd letter...I think...these are celestial coordinates.” He spun around in the chair to face the three Avengers, a gleam in his eyes.</p><p>Sam let out the breath be didn’t even realize he was holding.</p><p>Bruce turned back to the screen, “If I run them through our archive...” he initiated a hologram screen above the tablet so they all could see the location name, clear as crystal, staring them in the face.</p><p>“Vormir.”</p><p>“You gotta be shitting me,” Sam muttered, utterly bewildered. A momentary silence washed over the room, not one of them knowing how to break it. Sam opened his mouth to say something more, but immediately closed it. He began pacing, and then finally allowed the thoughts to flow from his brain, “Has she been alive this whole goddamn time? And in another timeline?”</p><p>“I don’t think so Sam,” Wanda added, her sure, soft tone soothing the aura of tension permeating the room. “If we’re receiving this now, maybe it’s because we’re meant to,” the men redirected their gaze to her, “But I’m starting to think her soul might have survived...caught in a place between timelines.” </p><p>“Is that even possible?” Sam asked the rhetorical question.</p><p>“Given everything that’s happened thus far, I’m gonna say why the hell not?” Bucky replied sarcastically.</p><p>Wanda turned to Bruce, “What if that’s why you couldn’t bring her back with the stones?”</p><p>“Shit,” he muttered.</p><p>“So what does this all mean, then?” Bucky leaned back against the desk, arms folded across his chest. </p><p>“It means we go get her.” Sam stated, a wave of determination washing over his features. Wanda smiled, noting how he reminded her of Steve in a moment like this.</p><p>“We know basically nothing about that place. It’s way out of our depths.” Bucky added solemnly.</p><p>“Well we know lot’s of people who would,” Sam was referring to the mass of heroes who had assembled in the fight against Thanos. </p><p>“Hang on. We don’t even know if we <em>can</em> bring her back.” Bruce threw up an arm in front of him.</p><p>“Well I figure I got no where else to be, and my friend might need my help.”</p><p>Bruce began to shake his head, reading Sam’s intentions, “Should I remind you all of what happened the last time we went looking for salvation in space?”</p><p>“Natasha would do it for any one of us,” Sam replied, “I mean she already did. We owe her this much.”</p><p>“I’ve always wanted to see the stars,” Bucky turned to Sam and smirked.</p><p>“Okay,” Bruce declared, chasing a breath after another long pause. “I could...send a distress beacon to Carol...maybe Rocket too. If you all really want to do this, we’re gonna need a ship...and a pilot.”</p><p>“And what about weapons?” Wanda broke her silence. The three of them responded with looks of confusion.</p><p>“If Bruce and Carol come I don’t think we have to worry ab–“</p><p>“That’s not what I mean,” she interrupted Sam with a stoic expression, “We need to be prepared for the very real possibility that whatever, or whomever we find, is not who we expect.” When no one said anything, she extrapolated, “We saw what happened in the dreams. We have to assume it’s not all just metaphoric. We were seeing it for a reason...” she shook her head, ever so slowly and slightly, “There might not be anything left.”</p><p>“We don’t know for sure. I never saw her die.” Sam declared.</p><p>“Then we need the two people who did.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Mission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Driven to save Nat, Sam and Bucky embark on the impossible journey.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The jet touched down upon the expanse of grass and shrubs below, just far enough away from where they needed to be that they wouldn’t alert suspicion. The air was still and quiet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The duo trotted up toward the house, and, hesitantly at first, gave a firm knock of the door. A smaller figure could be observed in movement behind the beveled glass windows. Through the framework they could hear, “Daddy, I think some of your superhero friends are here!” After another moment the door unlatched and slowly, swung open.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wanda?...Rhodey? What brings you out here?” Clint’s look of surprise and content began to waver as he observed their stoic, heavy expressions. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Clint,” Rhodey began, “Look, we know you’re retired, man, but you’re gonna want to come with us once you hear what we have to say.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What?” muttered the archer, now visibly concerned.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wanda took a breath and swallowed, “We received a message..from space. It’s about Natasha. We think...we think she might be alive.”</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>“You guys actually wore these?” Sam fidgeted in the bulky suit, hard Kevlar hitting the cool metal of the platform beneath him. </p><p>“What the hell are we even doing?” Bucky lamented under his breath.</p><p>“I can’t believe we’re actually using this stupid thing again,” Bruce sighed.</p><p>“Hey, watch it. This is Hank’s life’s work,” Scott piped up, “I can take these Pym particles right back.”</p><p>“Honestly, you probably should,” the green man stared down at the control panel, solemnly shaking his head.</p><p>Bucky turned to Sam, speaking softly, “What do you think he’s gonna say, when he sees us?”</p><p>Sam sighed, “I have no idea.”</p><p>After a pause, he spoke up, addressing the three of them, “I know what we’re about to do sounds entirely messed up, but we all know we need Steve. We need to know everything he knows about that soul stone, and like Wanda said, we need all of Nat’s closest friends on this if we want our best chance at success.”</p><p>“You sound just like him,” Scott smiled. </p><p>Sam continued, “We know that he went back to 1947. Thankfully, he mentioned it to me before he passed. Ironically, this mission is only possible because he shared that info.”</p><p>“We also know that this version of 1947 that he went back to was an alternate one,” Bruce took over the mission brief, “Because he had to travel back to our reality to pass on the shield to our Sam, it makes things real simple.” </p><p>“We go to that alternate timeline, and convince him to come back where he belongs.” Sam finished.</p><p>“I was able to access some archives from his time bracelet after the return. So we know the coordinates he arrived at. From what I can surmise, it’s somewhere along the east coast. What was shrouded is the date of his 1947 jump,” Bruce looked directly to Sam and Bucky, “Which means, I’m going to send you to the end of the year, so that you don’t arrive before him. And of course,” he sighed and wiped his forehead, “You need to get to him before he makes any long term decisions there.”</p><p>Bucky gulped. He knew exactly what that meant. </p><p>“You’re also gonna have to find him. He could realistically have gone anywhere in the world. But I imagine he arrived close to where he wanted to be.”</p><p>“Easy enough, we just have to find Peggy Carter,” Bucky murmured. </p><p>“Once you press the return, I’ll be bringing you back in a minute. Scott and I will be waiting. Be safe.”</p><p>Sam took a deep breath, steadying his shoulders as Bruce readied the machine.</p><p>“I get the weird sense he’s not gonna be entirely happy to see us,” Bucky muttered.</p><p>Before Sam could respond, their helmets were snapping up and the world around them blurred away. They were hurling through an abyss of abstract patterns and colours with no end.</p><p>Sam felt his feet touch the ground, and a cool wind brush his face as the helmet opened. He slowly opened his eyes, then surveyed their surroundings. </p><p>They were standing in a park; wide fields populated with trees and a few wooden benches. The sky was overcast. The warm hues of the leaves indicated it was the end of autumn. Sam glanced down at the time band on his wrist. He let out a short gasp of bewilderment, “November 6th...1947.” </p><p>“I don’t see anyone around. I think it’s morning,” Bucky peered out into the distance.</p><p>“Probably why he chose this spot. We need to lose the suits before somebody sees us.” Sam pressed the button Bruce had shown him, and the nano particles compacted to reveal their street clothes. Bucky had picked out the outfits to ensure they could blend in, “Ugh. How did y’all even wear suspenders?”</p><p>Bucky rolled his eyes, “You get used to it.”</p><p>“You’re still gonna make us stand out with that hair,” Sam quipped, gesturing to Bucky's bun as they began walking forward.</p><p>“Oh well. I’ve grown to like it too much,” He smiled and then grew concerned, “We’re gonna be aimlessly wandering these streets until we can get our bearings; figure out where we are. If we’re lucky maybe we’ll find a corner store with a map.</p><p>“I miss the future already,” Sam sighed.</p><p> </p><p>They trekked for a short while. The park emptied into a woodsy suburb. Mostly quiet streets were adorned with white aluminum siding and tall oak trees. It was picturesque.</p><p>“Well if I was gonna retire, something like this is what I’d have in mind,” Sam contemplated.</p><p>“Look,” Bucky motioned forward with a raise of his chin, as he stopped in the middle of the street. </p><p>Sam followed his gaze to the license plate of a parked car that read, <em>New Jersey</em>. “Wow, and we never even left the state,” he muttered.</p><p>“We need to be sure,” Bucky continued. He scanned the area in front, eyes falling on an older couple sitting on the porch a few houses down, “I have an idea.” </p><p>“Uh, hello there,” Bucky addressed the old folks calmly as he approached, “Sorry to disturb you. My colleague and I were making our way across state when our car broke down a few blocks out. We’ve never been here before, could you tell us what town this is?”</p><p>The couple gave both men a once over, slightly perplexed and off-put, but the old man responded kindly, “You’re in South River, son.”</p><p>They proceeded to steal a car and follow the old man’s directions to the town archives. “I remember that Peggy was living in Jersey during the war,” Bucky had rationalized, wide-eyed with determination, “Both of them have to be around here.”</p><p>“This is it,” Sam declared, after an hour or so of scanning documents hunched over a desk, “Current address of one Margaret Carter.” He tossed the open page across the table in front of Bucky, “They’re in Red Bank.”</p><p>They drove in relative silence, thoughts running rampant in their minds predicting the nature of the reunion they were about to have.</p><p>“Sam, we haven’t fully thought this through,” Bucky murmured amidst the soft whirring of the engine. “What do we do if he says no?”</p><p>“We convince him.” After another minute of silence Sam continued, eerily sombre, “If he really refuses to help then he’s not the man we knew anymore.” </p><p>They arrived at the house just before sunset. Sam parked the car at the side of the road, and with shaky breaths, the two of them trotted towards the front porch. Bucky’s fist hovered beside the door, hesitating. </p><p>“Wait,” Sam pushed his arm out of the way, “Maybe it’s better if I’m the first one she sees. She knew you, but according to her knowledge right now you’re supposed to be dead.”</p><p>“Fair,” Bucky nodded, stepping out of view.</p><p>Sam took a breath, and then finally knocked. After a short moment, the door unlatched and Peggy was there, a warm smile gracing her face, “Hello. May I help you sir?”</p><p>“Margaret Carter?” Peggy nodded, a look of confusion beginning to creep into her features. “I’m here on important business. My name is Samuel Wilson, and I need to know if Steve Rogers is here with you.”</p><p>Peggy stammered, “Sir, that is preposterous, you and the whole bloody world knows that he–“</p><p>“I know he came back to visit you from the future,” Sam interrupted, “...because that’s the future I’m from.”</p><p>Peggy’s eyes widened for a moment, then she inhaled deeply, “And why should I believe you?”</p><p>Suddenly, Bucky emerged from behind the  wall, standing just behind Sam, looking at Peggy with soft, pleading eyes.</p><p>“J-James?” She whispered breathlessly, in shock. </p><p>“Hi Peggy.” </p><p>“Look, we know he’s here,” Sam softened his tone, “Believe me, we wouldn’t have come all this way if it wasn’t important.“</p><p>Peggy conceded, ushering them in. “Wait here,” she instructed, motioning to a seating area off to the side. “Steve dear, could you come down?”</p><p>Footsteps could be heard from the top of the stairs, “What is it, Peg?” As he reached the bottom he met her nervous expression, and finally turned into the living room to see Sam and Bucky standing there. He slowed to a halt, processing the scene, in utter consternation. His expression went blank.</p><p>For a moment, no one said anything. When the silence felt like it dragged on for too long, Sam opened his mouth, a glazed look on his face. “Hey man.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Casus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam and Bucky face Steve in the the past. </p><p>—Featuring an early excerpt from Steve's perspective!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you doing here?” Steve muttered in a hollow tone, finally pacing toward them into the living room. His expression had not relaxed. </p><p>“Look, I know this is crazy...showing up here like this. We didn’t want to do it like this but believe me, it’s important. We need your help.”</p><p>“I’m retired.” Steve turned toward a nearby end table to grab a newspaper strewn about its top, visibly indifferent.</p><p>“Well that’s funny,” Sam continued, disheartened, a wave of tension seeping across his features, “Because I don’t remember that being formally announced.”</p><p>Steve whipped around to face him, pleading eyes threatening to break through his facade. He responded softly, “I’m sorry it happened the way it did,” he looked Sam straight in the eyes, “But I’m finished. You need to go.”</p><p>Sam hesitated, slightly stunned. Peggy noted his discomfort and snatched the opportunity to speak, “So when exactly were you going to tell me you came from the future?”</p><p>Steve clenched his eyes shut, “Dammit,” he bit off the word, defeated, “You just dropped that on her? Like that?” He addressed Sam, voice heated and wavering, he raised a palm to his forehead.</p><p>Bucky leaned forward, eyes widened, “You didn’t tell her?”</p><p>“What in the bloody hell is happening here?” Peggy threw her arms up as she exclaimed. </p><p>“Peg,” Steve reached for her arms, “I was waiting for the right moment to tell you. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to believe it. Sometimes I hardly can...when I think about everything that’s happened,” he let his eyes flutter closed for a moment and sighed, “There is so much I want to tell you. But you needed to be able to decide that you wanted to be with me before I went ahead and...shattered everything you know about the world.”</p><p>“I think I know what I need.” Peggy glanced down at the floor, fidgeting with her fingers. “Where are you from, Steve?”</p><p>He let out a deep breath before continuing, “I came here from the year 2023. When I crashed the plane, the world thought I died. But then in 2011, archaeologists excavated my crash site and found me, frozen but, alive.”</p><p>Her eyes widened in disbelief and shock, “So...there’s a version of you, the Steve I knew...frozen underground right now? She inched backward, “You’re not him.” </p><p>“Peggy,” he whispered hoarsely, reaching out to caress her cheek, “I’m still that man. I can be that man for you. I’ve felt the absence of you from the moment I first woke up. And when we invented time travel to save the world...well, everything changed. Nothing was...real anymore. We shattered the laws of what we knew to be possible. I thought maybe it meant that—“</p><p>She gave him a wavering smile, placing her hand above his. Questions ran rampant in her mind. “And James?” She glanced in Bucky’s direction.</p><p>“Yeah I couldn’t stay dead either,” he quipped with a gentle grin. “Y’see when Hydra captured me in 43 they–I’m saying too much.” He trailed off upon noticing Sam and Steve’s wild expressions.</p><p>Sighing, Peggy rubbed at her temples, “I think I need to sit down.” She moved to the armchair across from where Bucky had been sitting.</p><p>Steve turned toward Sam and Bucky again, sighing in defeat, “Why are you here? What the hell happened?”</p><p>“You died.” Sam’s expression hardened, “The old you...came back to our time after your life was over...not even a minute after you’d left. You handed me the shield and, not long after, that was it,” Sam sniffled, eyes moist with a tear threatening to fall.</p><p>Steve sighed again.</p><p>“It was just Bucky, Wanda and I after that. The world was quiet. But then a few weeks ago we received a message. Someone or...something began using Wanda as a conduit to broadcast a message. All three of us started having the exact same nightmare over and over again...at the same time.“</p><p>“Sam–“ he wistfully protested. </p><p>“We deciphered the message,” Bucky affirmed, “And we think we’ve figured out what the dreams were trying to tell us.”</p><p>“What could possibly–“</p><p>“We think Natasha might be alive.” Sam punctuated.</p><p>Steve froze. He instantly met Sam’s eyes, searching for vindication from his former friend. Finally, he appeared to have processed what he had just heard, and pressing his lips together whispered, “No.”</p><p>Sam furrowed his brows, “What?”</p><p>“We’re not doing this. I’m not doing this again, I can’t.”</p><p>“Steve–“ Bucky protested.</p><p>“No, you need to hear this,” Sam’s tone grew raised and impatient, “All of it.”</p><p>“Go home Sam,” he pleaded, “Please.”</p><p>“I just told you Nat might be alive, and that’s all you have to say?” He enunciated it sternly, as more of a statement than a question. After another pause he shook his head, “Man, what the hell happened to you while we were dead?”</p><p>“Do I even want to ask?” Peggy sighed.</p><p>“You couldn’t possibly imagine,” Steve uttered to Sam with tense features.</p><p>“You’re right, I can’t. But what I do know is that Natasha was the only one who never gave up on us. You all left her alone!” Steve seemed to flinch at the sound of Sam’s accusations. “And now we have a chance to make it right.”</p><p>Steve seemed to be entranced in contemplation.</p><p>“The message contained coordinates, Steve,” Bucky persisted, “Wanda woke up from the dream with alien glyphs etched into her arms, and somehow Bruce translated it into morse. And they were coordinates for Vormir.”</p><p>Steve let out a breath, staring off absentmindedly.</p><p>“It was date-stamped the day she died.”</p><p>“How—“</p><p>“How does a raccoon talk?” Sam muttered, a small smirk wiping across his face.</p><p>“It doesn’t make sense,” Steve whispered, staring absentmindedly.</p><p>“It doesn’t...but human morse code, sent from space? It can’t be a coincidence.” Bucky concluded.</p><p>“There’s something else you should know,” Sam added in a sombre tone, “We saw her...in the dreams. She was different...changed somehow. Wanda seems to think that if any—part of her is alive, she might not remember who she is, or what happened...which is why we’re here...recruiting the person she was closest to.” He paused and briefly glanced at Peggy. </p><p>“What abou—” </p><p>“Wanda and Rhodey are retrieving Clint.”</p><p>Steve ran a palm against his face. He let his eyes flutter closed for a moment.</p><p>“If Wanda’s right about this, whatever’s happening is a sign of some kind of cosmic disturbance.” Sam extrapolated.</p><p>“It’s about more than just Natasha. If there’s a chance we can stop it, and save her in the process, we have to try.” Bucky declared. </p><p>“You’re asking me to risk all of this on a premonition...images that Wanda could’ve conceived in her own mind. What are you gonna do if you go all the way out there and find nothing?”</p><p>“You think she conceived an entire language system in her sleep? She doesn’t even know morse code. Look. Bruce didn’t want to believe it either. But he analyzed the data himself,” Sam motioned forward with both palms, “Someone or something out there wants us to follow those coordinates.”</p><p>“Have you considered that it could be some sort of trap?” Peggy chimed in.</p><p>“It’s a test of faith,” he nodded in Peggy’s direction and then quickly turned back to Steve, “But I‘m believing in this right now. Maybe this is...something we can’t comprehend yet.”</p><p>“But why now...nine years after her death?” Steve pondered.</p><p>“That’s what we want to figure out.” Bucky punctuated.</p><p>“Rhodey and Lang are on board too.”</p><p> “I can’t–“ Steve shook his head, “I can’t do this again.”</p><p>Sam sighed, stepping closer to him, “I know why you really left. I looked into your eyes every day for two years...eyes that saw nothing but devastation. You ran away, Steve...from the grief and the loss. You have a chance to come back and do it over...overcome it.”</p><p>“This is my do-over.”</p><p>Sam paused, studying him, “There’s something you’re not telling us.”</p><p>Peggy slowly stood up from the couch, silently encapsulated.</p><p>Sam let out a breath of defeat, still staring Steve down, “Look, you can stay here in this fake timeline if you want to, we just need to know what you know about Vormir.”</p><p>“Fake?” Steve inquired with a subtle roll of his neck and vacant eyes.</p><p>“However you wanna slice it...yeah. You created a whole branch just for yourself to escape to. Do whatever you want, but at least give her a choice,” Sam jabbed a thumb in Peggy’s direction.</p><p>Steve expunged another deep breath, irritated. “You want to know what happened on Vormir? The guardian said her soul was out of our reach...She’s gone, Sam. You don’t think that I tried? That I didn’t beg for a loophole before giving up the stone?”</p><p>When neither man said anything, he continued, “Like you said, it’s beyond us...beyond our intervention. I can’t help you,” he whispered, defeated. "I can't help anyone." </p><p>Sam scoffed, then turned and paced away from Steve, pausing with his grip on the front door handle. “There’s a bar down the road,” Sam uttered, “We’ll wait there until nightfall. And then we’re gone...Just in case you change your mind.”</p><p>“You needed to know that there was a possibility you could still save one of them,” Bucky professed, “...before you make this decision for good. We can let you go now.”</p><p>“Forget it, he’s not the man we knew anymore,” Sam gave him one last pained look before reaching for the door.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>“Did you know?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Did you know what was going to happen to me when you decided to come back here?” Peggy prodded.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He hesitated but softly conceded, “Yes.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Was it worse?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He thought about the Alzheimers. “I don’t know. But I had faith that maybe you were still in my destiny.” His confession piqued Peggy’s attention, her chin turning up. “When we failed, and the universe was...plunged into darkness, It made me wonder if I was always meant to come back here—that maybe the future would have been better off.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Or maybe it would have been worse.” He was struck by her response. “People will always need..symbols who prove that their faith can be rewarded. I don’t think that’s ever going to change.” She licked her drying lips, “But I think, now, that you woke up in the time that perhaps needed you most.” She placed a palm across his shoulder, watching it linger there for a moment before sliding away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is that really what you believe?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t know what I believe in now,” she whispered, creases etched over her features. “Steve...It’s been over a month.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know,” he uttered, glancing downward and defeated, “Maybe I was enjoying being back here with you so much, it-it became too easy to forget.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She reached up to splay her fingers across his cheek, searching his eyes, her voice just above a whisper, “Seeing you show up at my door that day, was I think the happiest day of my life. Now it’s like...you’re both here and not here at the same time,” she caressed his cheek softly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Peggy...I’m not going anywhere.” He stared back at her admiringly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s not what I mean.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Now it sounds like you want me to go,” he spoke solemnly, through half lidded eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No, I–I just need to understand...” After a moment’s pause the train of thoughts resumed in her head, “Who is Natasha?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He didn’t answer right away, taking a breath and a minute to actually contemplate the answer, “She was my partner. When I woke up, she was working for...the people that found me. We both joined the same strike team, and she helped me adjust to life in the future. Things got bad, and that’s how we met Sam, and found Bucky...and then slowly, more and more heroes joined us until we formed this strange, sort of unconventional family.” He smiled softly. “Natasha and I, we...kind of ran it all side by side.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And then she died?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He released another audible breath, “Yeah. She sacrificed herself to save our friends, Sam and Bucky among them. It’s why they feel so strongly about this.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I think you feel more strongly about it than you’re letting on.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What are you suggesting?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I saw the way you reacted when Sam mentioned her name.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Peggy. I didn’t have feelings for her.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well there is something holding you back there...something you can’t let go of...that you were running away from.” She brought her palm to her forehead, her eyes wide with newfound realization, “There’s so much we can’t even begin to fathom about this.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You want me to go.” It was a statement, a resignation uncovered through her sentiment.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No, but I think you have to. To find out if you truly belong here...and I’m coming with you.”</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Speculum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam reflects on past and present predicaments.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam sipped on his beer, staring off into the warm crevices of the wood interior, rigid textures engulfing him in a swarm of disorientation. He realized in this instant that he hadn’t truly prepared for the possibility of Steve sending them away, and now attempted to reconcile with his failure. He was met by his own reflection in the backsplash mirror, a swirl of mosaic pieces that reminded him of just how different their circumstances almost could have been.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>Sam sipped at his granita, toes comfortably wedged beneath the sand. It had become a sort of morning routine; planning to try each of the flavours so long as they were in town, which he’d presumed wouldn’t be more than a few days. Here, right now, at this beach side bar beneath the white cliffs and tall palms, he looked like an ordinary tourist. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tropea was undeniably beautiful. It was easy to get lost in fantasies of staying hidden away forever. In reality, they were on a mission; still trying to make the world a less darker place despite that world essentially throwing them aside like trash. But this was the life they chose. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“So what’s the story this time?” Steve suddenly appeared, nudging at his side.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Anguria," he enunciated the word slowly, "I give it a solid seven out of ten,” he replied, in reference to his drink, motioning to inspect the glass, “You enjoy your run?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah,” he sighed, “The view is just...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Kinda makes you wish we could stay for real?” Sam finished.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“If only.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Y’know, it would be easy...if we stopped, right now,” he trailed off as he noticed Natasha approaching them from the shore, and swivelled his stool in her direction. She had a loose tan knit tied around her waist, newly blonde hair damp at her shoulders. He could only guess how she procured the black bikini that seemed to hug her figure perfectly. She was squinting against the brightness, but still with a hint of a smile in their direction, which, after another second more he realized, was just Steve’s.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And what have you been up to on this temporary reprieve?” He inquired once she was within earshot.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh you know, some much needed R&amp;R...cliff diving by that cave back there,” she motioned behind her with her thumb, her eyes lighting up, “It’s pretty incredible.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“If you consider extreme sports in the a.m. relaxation,” Sam smirked behind another swig of crushed ice. The cool trickle down his throat gave him a momentary reprieve from the beating sun.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I just figured we have about...twelve hours before our problems catch up to us again. If we don’t try to steal moments like these, then, what are we even doing?” She shifted her yearning gaze between the two of them, as a salty breeze threaded in between strands of her hair.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I still don’t really know,” Steve concluded, hands at his hips, surveying the landscape around them. His eyes landed on Natasha.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They were tracking the Camorra. More specifically, a small caravan originating in Quarto which they discovered was making its way to the south for something big; what they believed would be an auction for scavenged Chitauri tech coming from across the Ionian sea to the east. As far as they knew, no one suspected their interception. No one here knew who they were. And for the past two days it had felt, liberating. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You should come dive with me,” Natasha turned to Steve, fingers gliding over his arm, “I think you’d love it. Plus, the locals get a kick out of having fresh blood up there. Most of the tourists are too afraid to jump,” she chuckled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We need to prepare for tonight,” he sighed, staring at the horizon behind her. Then he smiled softly, staring into her eyes, “If we’re still here tomorrow, you’re on.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They stayed like that for a moment before Sam broke the silence. “Well, I’m gonna head over to that panini shop for a nice lunch before this two day vacation is over.” He slid his glass across the bar and stood, “Meet you back at the hotel for the briefing.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We should head up too,” Natasha nodded. “I was gonna head up to the piazza to scope out a decent dress for later. Wanna come?” She gave a slight raise of her brow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sure,” Steve grinned, shrugging. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sam had taken note of the shifting aura around him lately. Nat and Steve had been acting...different. He could see that they were all becoming much closer since they became fugitives, but now that they had the luxury to catch their breath for a moment, it had become even more apparent. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Two nights ago when they arrived, they had ventured to explore a party happening on the beach. Natasha tasked herself with getting Steve to dance to latin music after he insisted he couldn’t. And in front of batted lashes and feather-light touches, he conceded and danced with her. They moved in sync, all the time—mind and body aligned. Frankly, it amazed him that he was the only one who noticed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He stood now, surveying the ornate room and congregation full of organized crime syndicates who had no idea who he was. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>They were right. They had come from all around the Mediterranean just for some Hydra leftovers. Natasha had eavesdropped on a conversation that proved it. They were pretending to be hired mercenaries, but the cover was flimsy, and without backup, they knew they wouldn’t last long. Sam felt the adrenaline flow through him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“If they reach a bid on the weapon...” Steve murmured from beside him between swigs of a whiskey.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“All bets are off,” Sam finished. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s looking likely. I might as well go rescue Nat,” Steve declared, placing his empty glass on the plane of marble behind him and motioning forward to where Natasha was dancing with a schmoozing attempt stretched way too thin. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mmhmm,” Sam mumbled coyly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He watched Steve approach them to Natasha’s surprise, and mouth a “scusa” in the man’s direction. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sam smirked from the distance behind his own glass. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then Steve’s hand was splayed across her lower back as the music changed and they were swaying in unison, whispering to each other. The dress Natasha had found was a Grecian cut, with an open back and long wafts of sheer black that parted at her thigh.</em>
</p><p>Ora, il tempo è ora<br/>Perché è una sola<br/>La vita è ora</p><p>
  <em>Sam turned to procure another drink. As he thumbed at the pick of olives he caught it out of the corner of his eye: among the sea of dancers, their mouths melded in a languid kiss. And then, just like that, it was over, as one by one, men from around the room were making their way toward the double doors at the edge of the space to acquire their prize. He felt his stomach churn as the realization hit that they were fated to follow.</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>“You think we created another branch just by coming here?” Bucky asked, shaking him from his revere.</p><p>“Does it matter? At this point?” Sam murmured. “Time’s almost up,” he declared, glancing at his watch. </p><p>“Not quite,” Steve’s voice answered as he appeared directly beside them, taking a swig from a glass of whiskey.</p><p>Bucky smiled into his glass.</p><p>“So the prodigal son returns?” Sam quipped over the sound of soft playing jazz. </p><p>“Yeah I thought about it. Peggy seems to believe you. It was three to one,” he smirked behind his glass.</p><p>“I’m happy to see you again, Steve,” Sam declared, spinning to face him, “Truly.” </p><p>The soldier smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgement.</p><p>“I have two conditions before I agree to do this,” he took another swig.</p><p>Sam nodded upward, beckoning him to proceed.</p><p>“No matter how this ends, I want insurance that once the mission’s over, I get to return.”</p><p>“There’s still a risk factor–“</p><p>“Which brings me to the next thing,” Steve continued, “Peggy comes with us.”</p><p>“No way,” Sam shook his head, “First of all, we only brought one extra suit,” he leaned toward Steve, lowering his voice at his mention of the word.</p><p>“I never destroyed mine,” Steve revealed, “It’s hidden somewhere safe...with the last vial of particles.”</p><p>“Fine,” Sam conceded, letting out a breath, “But she gets lost in the quantum realm, it’s on you.” He stood and threw some bills acquired from the stolen car onto the bar, “Time to get this show on the road.”</p><p>***</p><p>A light wind whistled through the blades of grass. The light of the moon caressed the expanse of field and trees and wooden boards along the porch. The soft hum of insects graced their ears.</p><p>“You ready?” Sam turned to Steve, who was walking into the yard from the back door of the house. He procured the suit he had stashed and was now wearing it. </p><p>Peggy appeared behind him, examining herself in the suit, amazed, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”</p><p>“A future friend of yours is going to invent the first iteration in about twenty five years,” Bucky snickered. Sam nudged him in the ribs.</p><p>“Did you set her device?” he asked Steve.</p><p>“Yeah. Ready on your cue.” </p><p>“Now it’s important that you hold on tight,” Sam addressed Peggy, “Bruce is only expecting coordinates for three bodies on his end. If you lose hold, you could end up lost in the quantum realm forever.” He shifted his gaze among the both of them.</p><p>“I understand.” She nodded.</p><p>Sam found her confidence astonishing. She was about to embark on a fifth dimensional journey with hardly any briefing, for the first time, and she didn’t appear the slightest bit terrified.</p><p>“Alright. Switches on three. One...two—“</p><p>The world once again morphed and warped around them. After an instance, Sam felt his feet hit ground again. He opened his eyes to see Bruce and Lang observing from below their platform. To his relief, all four of them were standing on it. </p><p>“H-holy shit,” Bucky gasped, exasperated, and grasping at his sides.”</p><p>“He’s back,” Scott hummed in awe of seeing Steve again.</p><p>“Uh guys,” Bruce casually motioned to Peggy, “What did you do?”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hyperspeed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Avengers congregate before their big mission into the unknown.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the extra week this time around. Things have gotten crazy with my new job and now the virus. There's gonna be a bit of a hiatus before Book II as well to give me some time to finish it off, but now that I'm working from home for the next while it should get done. Godspeed out there!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>“You brought a person from the past!” Bruce exclaimed, waving his arms around in front of him.</p><p>“Don’t look at me,” Sam paced, jabbing a thumb in the soldier’s direction. </p><p>“To be fair they were living together, and she sort of had no idea he was from the future until we showed up.” Bucky muttered.</p><p>“Wow,” Bruce uttered in monotone.</p><p>Peggy stood from her chair. They were back inside the new compound, trying to unpack what would happen next. “You know I am here to help...just as much as I am to support Steve’s...newfound journey of self-realization.” She enunciated the last part with a hint of disdain, focusing her attention in Steve’s direction before continuing. “I am the one who assured him that coming back for this mission was the right thing to do. And he owes me answers, so—“</p><p>“Okay, I am really confused,” Scott interrupted, hands outstretched in front of him.</p><p>“I think we all are.” Sam added.</p><p>“Fine,” Bruce sighed in defeat, “You wanted answers, you got it,” he gestured around him to the remnants of the Avengers.</p><p>“I forgot to ask this but why is he green,” Peggy leaned into Steve and whispered, her eyes still on Bruce.</p><p>“Long story,” Steve replied. </p><p>Suddenly, the doors to the foyer burst open and Clint strolled in, with Wanda and Rhodes trailing behind him. “Tell me it’s true,” he demanded, exasperated. Then his eyes fell on Peggy, his features relaxing with subtle confusion, “Who’s this?”</p><p>Wanda and Rhodey both lit up at the sight of Steve standing before them, once again.</p><p>“Hi Clint,” Steve sighed, punctuated with a hinted smile, “I’m sure you’ve all heard of Peggy Carter.”</p><p>“Huh.” Clint nodded. He glanced back at Steve, “Good to see you back, buddy. Your funeral was solid by the way, real tear jerker.” He gave Steve a light pat on the back.</p><p>“Alright, now that everyone’s caught up...” Bruce continued with a slight eye roll, “Carol is expected to arrive in the morning with our ship. No more time travel from here on out. Wanda believes that the timing of the message is significant, therefore, no point in us travelling back to the moment Nat died. This is happening now...well at least, relative to now. I don’t know, I’ve only been to space once.” He adjusted his glasses. “We don’t know what we can expect to find beyond the scenarios depicted in Wanda’s dreams...which may be entirely metaphoric in nature. We are, quite literally, grasping at this blindly...walking into an unknown. I suggest that before stepping onto that ship tomorrow, you each ask yourselves if you’re fully prepared to take that leap...for Natasha’s sake, and also your own.”</p><p>“We should all get some rest.” Sam concluded the briefing. </p><p>Everyone parted ways through the foyer to find a room or place to settle in. The summer sun had just set. Sam padded into the common room for a glass of orange juice and a final sweep before heading to sleep. In the dimness, he saw Steve sitting on one of the bar stools absentmindedly, and he quietly moved to sit next to him.</p><p>After the giant wall clock had been ticking away for one full revolution, Steve finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry Sam.”</p><p>“For what,” he raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“For not being as optimistic as you hoped. I realize this new reality was probably disappointing to wake up in.” </p><p>“It has its moments,” Sam murmured, gulping down the remainder of the juice in his cup.</p><p>Steve was staring straight ahead. He sighed, “I shouldn’t have left when I did.”</p><p>“No one blamed you.” After a lingering pause he continued, “So, are you finally gonna tell me what the hell happened between you and Natasha while I was dead that has you so scared?”</p><p>A look of defeat crossed Steve’s features. “We were each other’s only companion for five years. Even though life kind of, found a way to tick on, it always felt like we were riding out the end of days...just the two of us...like nothing was real.”</p><p>Sam studied the pain laced into his expression as he spoke. He was able to formulate his own theory of what Steve meant.</p><p>“She never really gave up on you, even on the worst days, and even long after I finally accepted the inevitable. I was the last one of us to leave the compound. I don’t know if she ever really forgave me for that.” </p><p>“Maybe this is your chance to make it up to her.” Sam let the thought marinate in Steve’s mind before shifting the subject. “Do you remember that night in Tropea?”</p><p>“What about it?”</p><p>“...Right before Thanos...before all of this. Do you think anything would have happened differently, if we didn’t blow our cover that night?”</p><p>“He still would have come, Sam. It was always beyond us.” </p><p>“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’m talking about that kiss both of you pretended never happened.”</p><p>His eyes fluttered before a soft breath escaped his lips, “That was...”</p><p>“Yeah I get it,” he smirked solemnly, “Not the right time I guess.” After a brief pause he finished his thought, “But it meant something.”</p><p>Sam could sense Steve’s features tense. His eyes seemed to glaze over as he sharpened his attention in front of him. “Maybe it did.” he uttered, hoarsely.</p><p>Sam studied him for another minute. <br/>“Steve...I’ll do my best to get you and Peggy back to the past when it’s all done. You have my word. But I hope that no matter how this ends, you’ll reconsider your place here. The Avengers can be a home again.”</p><p>“Not without her.”</p><p>***</p><p>They were awoken by the roar and quaking of the ship landing in the meadow outside. One by one, everyone emerged outside to greet Carol. As the hatch descended, they were surprised to see a certain god of Thunder, posed in front of Rocket and Groot, instead. </p><p>“Surprised to see us, fleabags?” Rocket snickered as he jumped onto the grass. </p><p>Steve and Bucky made eye contact as they smiled in bewilderment. </p><p>“Did-did that raccoon just speak?” Peggy asked, astonished. </p><p>“What’s the matter with this one?” Rocket jabbed a thumb in her direction.</p><p>“Hello my friends!” Thor exclaimed, raising his arms, Stormbreaker in hand, and following Rocket off of the platform. Bruce moved to embrace Thor in a hug. “So glad to see you guys! But where’s Carol?”</p><p>“Captain sparkle fingers was busy as usual with some inter-dimensional peacekeeping shindig or something like that. So she called us because she thought we were closer to the mission. But she sends this beauty of a ship and her best regards.”</p><p>“She give you the briefing?” Bruce interrogated.</p><p>“One hundo P. Honestly, I liked that Natasha girl. I’d leave her in charge more often.”</p><p>“I tried to tell them it wasn’t over...that we’d get her back,” Thor beamed from ear to ear, glancing at Rocket and then to the rest of the group, pausing an instance longer as his eyes met Steve’s.</p><p>“I’m glad you guys are coming with us,” Rhodey grinned, reaching to clap Thor on the back. </p><p>***</p><p>His brain rattled against the sheer force of the ascent. Sam gripped at his seat as fire and gravity clashed in a battle fit for ancient titans. He could swear his heart was thumping even louder than the crack of the engines. He was processing what felt like hundreds of thoughts per second; anxieties about what awaited them, the exhilaration of being in space, and the desire to reach absolution. If Wanda was right, he wasn’t sure they were prepared for this. But people like Natasha were worth fighting for. As his heart rose in his chest, he fought against the storm with determined breaths.</p><p>“Approaching jump point in 3—“ Rocket declared, his paw clutching the control lever.</p><p>“Everybody ready to say goodbye to our solar system?” Bruce exclaimed over the whirr of light speed. </p><p>Surveying the faces of all the newbies strapped in behind them, Rocket erupted into thunderous laughter, and pulled the lever, sending them into hyper speed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Catacombs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>She remembered a flash of staring up at a tall cliff; warm light ascending further from reach as time counted backward to oblivion.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, it's certainly been a year.</p><p>I want to thank everyone who is still subscribed/invested in this story. I haven't forgotten you lovely souls, even though it takes me a long time to write, and this fandom knows I have historically sucked at finishing long fics. I've been scolding myself for not just finishing book two during the first lockdown, but in this case, second lockdown was the charm. </p><p>There will be more chapters in book two, with more thrills, and more cosmic comic nuance that I can't wait for you guys to read. I will update weekly again until this book is complete! Also, when I imagined what could happen to Natasha after death, I was heavily inspired by season 5 of The 100. So obligatory disclaimer because I directly draw from it in some parts.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything was cold, and dark; paralyzing.  Fire seared through every nerve as she lay frozen, in the void of her own body. </p><p>It continued like this for ages—simultaneous debilitating pain, and lack of all sensation of form. None of it made sense...literally. It felt as if all of her human senses had been compromised. </p><p>
  <em>Was this hell? </em>
</p><p>Time was incomprehensible. She struggled against her remaining mental capacity to force her limbs to move. She laid there in the rubble until finally, she was graced with the vision in front of her, and slowly willing herself upright. She was staring up at a blank midday sky. It was starkly quiet. </p><p>Several memories were suddenly accessible. She blinked. She remembered a flash of staring up at a tall cliff; warm light ascending further from reach as time counted backward to oblivion. The burned image of that jagged peak, contrasting the empty expanse currently clouding her vision caused her to flinch. There were no structures in sight of where she found herself now. She slowly unfolded her limbs and stumbled to her feet, observing vast stretches of dusty wasteland in every direction. The sun was dimmed behind a layer of clouds. There were no discernible landmarks in sight. </p><p>She gasped at the overarching emptiness. There was nothing to do but pick a direction and walk—or stay and continue to die in the middle of nowhere. Disoriented, she trudged along toward what she perceived to be the east, all the while trying to reconcile what had happened. </p><p><em>We were...supposed to stop Thanos. How-how did I get here? Where is...here? </em>She pondered as she assessed the barren landscape. </p><p>It seemed as if she were walking for several hours, until eventually, rigid, abstract, structures caught her eye in the distance—trees, or rather, what appeared to be the charred remains of several trees. She squinted and used her remaining energy to push onward in the hopes that the sight of vegetation indicated water or food was nearby. </p><p>But even that was an overstatement. The forest was hardly a forest at all; blackened branches twisted aimlessly, surrounded by dried earth. There was nothing here.</p><p>The expanse of dead trees stretched on, until she noticed an abrupt halt in the horizon of the terrain. She hurried to the edge to see what lay below. A pit sank to the bottom of her stomach. She gasped again, louder than before. There, in the centre of the valley, embedded in contours which she now recognized, was the compound—reduced to rubble.</p><p>“No—“ she whispered, her breath caught in her throat. Compelled, she hopped down the cliff edge, darting out to reach the rubble. <em>An explosion</em>, she guessed, based on the blackened surface and the way the ground had swallowed the bottom layers in a sinkhole. If there were anyone left alive, they’d be buried underground, she surmised. She climbed up one of the dilapidated walls, leading her to the area above the common rooms. She frantically searched for something she could use to part the rock. Her eyes landed on a shard of pipe wedged a few feet away. With a grunt she was able to free it. </p><p>She spotted a divot in the chunks of concrete, exposing a skylight, and  repeatedly jammed the pipe into it to force the gap apart. “I’m here!” She shouted breathlessly. It echoed across the valley. </p><p>After several minutes of relentless pounding, the earth began to rumble, as the remaining structural integrity of the rubble beneath her gave way. As she descended through the roof, she was coated in dust and debris. </p><p>Regaining awareness, she stumbled up in the darkness. Glints of light from the surface reflected off of furniture in the room. It was a bedroom. Her eyes widened. <em>That room.</em> She scrambled through debris and broken glass until she began to spot the artifacts, strewn about. This was her memorial. </p><p>She remembered the day they put it together, three months after the snap. It had been Steve’s idea, after one too many instances of catching her pause solemnly every time something in the common area triggered a memory of one of their friends. He could see how staying was holding them both back, that there wasn’t going to be anything left for them here—something he finally acknowledged aloud one day when he came home to find her caressing a pair of Sam’s goggles, and sobbing into her shirt sleeves. She knew he was right. They were torturing themselves...but for whatever reason, neither one of them could muster up the will to leave. So they collected items from around the compound, and laid them to rest inside their makeshift mausoleum, physical remains to bury. And then they locked it shut.</p><p>She examined Sam’s goggles in her fingers now, running them across the cracked lenses and worn leather straps. Instinctively, tears began to fall, as the loss and emptiness overwhelmed her once again. She became wracked with sobs, as she cradled them to her chest. </p><p>She had no recollection of the point at which she gave in to sleep, but she awoke from her spot on the dilapidated mattress. Warmer light was cascading through the hole in the ceiling. <em>How long had it been? </em></p><p>The now brighter glow exposed a small crevice leading through the wall into the bigger common area. If there was any food left to be found, she had to try the kitchen. She surveyed the integrity of the tunnel. <em>Not like I got anything left to lose.</em></p><p>She scuffled her way through, silently praying that no more rubble gave way. The space opened up before her. Half of the foyer had been avalanched, now buried in debris. A narrow pathway to the kitchen was visible. She followed along, hopping over jagged slabs of wall and floor, and shards of torn furniture. The kitchen was equally a disheveled, blackened mess, no doubt due to an exploded appliance. She surveyed the pantry, remaining cupboards dangling from a single hinge. A box on the dusty floor caught her eye; a half eaten supply of strawberry pop tarts. Something about this particular image was familiar. Then it clicked. Thor had been munching on them just before they assembled through the quantum tunnel.</p><p>“This happened...after—” She placed a palm to the corner of her forehead as a sinking thought worked its way into her mind, “I’m dead.” She finally whispered aloud, hoarsely. </p><p>Natasha braced herself on what was left of the nearby countertop, sliding back against it until she reached the floor. She was dead. At least, it seemed that way. A new degree of clarity lifted a wave of haze from her mind, like a drug slowly leaving her system. She had sacrificed herself on Vormir, and that was the last thing she remembered. “But then how am I here?” she whispered to herself again, “Where...<em>when</em> is <em>here</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BOOK TWO: NATASHA</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>She sat at the island, bare feet gracing the icy marble. She stared absentmindedly into a barely eaten bowl of stale cereal. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You looking for something in there?” Steve was resting against the kitchen archway, observing her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry,” she stammered, straightening her posture. She watched him saunter into the room and grab a carton of orange juice from the fridge, pouring himself a glass. He was wearing joggers and a compression tank, beads of sweat adorning his forehead and shoulders. He faced her from the other side of the island. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How was your run?” She prodded.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How do you think?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What do we do now, Steve.” She gazed upwards at him, eyes pleading for an answer; her words almost a whisper.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He sighed, “I have no idea.” He took a sip from his glass. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s too quiet now.” She mused, “It just feels like we’re being haunted.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s why everyone else left.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“They were just...ready to pack it all in so quickly...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nat, there’s nothing else we could’ve tried. There’s no greater power in the universe.” He watched her draw attention back to her bowl, forcing herself to take a bite.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You haven’t been eating,” he forcibly muttered, tone soft through half lidded eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She subtly shook her head, then threw on a slight grin to mask the aura in the room, “I guess that was obvious.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Let’s try something,” he declared. She raised an eyebrow. “Let’s have a proper meal together. Tonight I’ll cook us some real food,” he gestured to the sad looking bowl in front of her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh? You’re gonna cook?” She gave him a playful grin, leaning in toward him to rest her elbows atop the white granite, “Well then say no more.” Their eyes met, their glances lingering just a little too long.</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>Natasha pulled herself from the floor, continuing to stagger around the charred remnants of the common area. Her eyes caught another distinct artifact wedged atop a dilapidated shelf—Sam’s MP3 player. </p><p>He had found it by accident while they were on the run, in an abandoned safe house in Constanta. Though dated, the tech was ideal because it couldn’t be traced. It became their primary source of entertainment during all of their car rides, and the soundtrack to their misadventures. She held the device to her chest as she continued poking around through the wreckage. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>“So what do you think?” Steve asked, his voice a low hum.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natasha savoured the bite from her forkful of spaghetti con vongole, eyes playfully wide in anticipation. Her expression narrowed as she swallowed, “Oh my god. Steve, it’s incredible. How did you learn how to make this?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He softly shrugged, “Internet. That restaurant actually had their special recipe posted on their website. I thought it’d help stir up some better memories...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How could I forget...,” she trailed off wistfully, “that first night in Tropea...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He chuckled softly, “I don’t think either of us has eaten this well since,” he paused, “I don’t think mine hits quite the same though. Supermarket was low on fresh stock, too.” He twiddled his fingers around his fork.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No, this is..perfect.” She looked up from her bowl and caught his intensive glance.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The song that was playing from Sam’s playlist changed. Her mind drifted back to that temporary reprieve, of lush cliff sides and crystal waters, which felt like another life now. They had kissed. It was almost instinctual—like they had become so accustomed to playing other people, neither of them could unravel the layers of where the cover ended and they began. Still, they had avoided bringing it up entirely, probably, Natasha surmised, deep down for those very reasons. It should have been a simple thing to put to bed, and yet, Natasha couldn’t seem to quell her curiosity after all these months, especially now that there was no one left to hide from.</em>
</p><p>Too late,<br/>You wanna make it right, but now it's too late...<br/>...I'm trying not to waste my time.</p><p>
  <em>Her features became solemn. “This was one of his favourite songs.” She murmured, almost a whisper. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>An image clouded her mind of Sam driving them along the Black Sea in their stolen truck, singing along to the current selection from his newly acquired device. She and Steve both grinned in amusement. Eventually, Sam had beckoned over to her in the passenger seat to join him, and she gave in to his infectious energy. In a later instance, the three of them sat on the porch of their dilapidated motel room, eating take out gyros in front of the sunset, and the moment had gotten them singing and smiling again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She released her fork into her almost empty plate, letting out an estranged breath as the loud clang of the utensil hitting porcelain reverberated through the common room.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey,” Steve whispered soothingly, jumping from his chair to reach her side in just a few strides. He placed a palm over her shoulder, rubbing across her back in repeated motions. His brows were knitted in concern. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry,” Natasha stammered,” contorting her features in an attempt to fight off tears that threatened to fall. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s okay,” Steve assured her. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” After another brief moment of consoling her in a half embrace, he reached for her hand folded across her lap. “I got another one—dance with me?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She turned to meet his gaze with the tiniest smile and obliged, letting him pull her up off the chair and fall gracefully into place in his arms. They swayed together slowly, her burying her face against the crook of his neck. His jaw was beginning to get scruffy again; his beard making a resurgence amidst the circumstance. She felt his stubble scratch at her cheek, and let out a soft hum of approval. They had danced together several times while on the run, but this was different; more intimate somehow, because they weren’t putting on a show for any onlooking stares.</em>
</p><p>If you want it, you can have it,<br/>If you need it, <br/>You better believe in something. <br/>We can make it, alright.</p><p>
  <em>When the tempo picked up slightly, Steve surprised her by briefly spinning her around, which earned him a breathless giggle, which he mirrored across his own lips. She let her arms encircle his neck, and felt his hands slide up along her hips in response, resting at the small of her back. She took in a deep breath, willing her heart rate to calm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natasha began softly swaying her hips to the slow beat, the movement beckoning her attention away from her sadness. Steve matched her velocity, gripping at her just the slightest bit tighter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She instinctively leaned forward, their foreheads just inches apart. He caught her gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, and they stayed studying one another for a prolonged minute.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She fought against the urge to press herself completely into him, to feel the sturdiness of his muscles radiate into her skin and just hold her, upright. Just being this close to him now made her realize that they were dangerously close to tumbling over that metaphorical line in the sand. And unlike Tropea, this time there would be no running away from it.</em>
</p><p>Now won’t you close your eyes.</p><p>***</p><p>Eventually, she made her way through to the hangar, and the black crevices opened up to a larger cavern, a pool of light cascading from above seemed to highlight a second way out from the tomb. <em>But how am I gonna get up there?</em></p><p>She then smirked as she caught sight of a rover in her peripheral that still looked in tact. Rushing over to it, she pried the driver side door open and attempted to force it to turn on. </p><p>Nothing.</p><p>It was solar powered, she knew as much. She would have to claw an opening and drag it out several feet into the sun. <em>Not an option.</em></p><p>She attempted to survey the remaining wreckage for anything of use. Natasha clawed her way up the pile of rubble leading to the opening, thinking she could pry it wider by pulling on an exposed piece of rebar. She reconciled it was a bad idea immediately, as the force sent her tumbling backward, but she felt her body catch against a hard surface that saved her from falling. A metal clang reverberated from her side, echoing in the chasm. She knew what it was, but she turned slowly anyway, exposing the bright red and blue, and chrome star.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Line</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha recalls a particular moment of vulnerability in her strife to break free from the tomb.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been very excited to share this chapter; some new terrain for me as a writer, and vindication as a fan of these characters. I hope you enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>She sat leaned over the sofa, thumbing at the bottle of vodka she procured from the stash Tony had labelled ‘Operation: Mingle,’ after a particularly rough day of ‘surviving.’ Sam’s playlist softly carried about in the background. Not long ago, she had gotten off the phone with Rhodey, who had called in a haste for the first time since leaving the team to pass along some information. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Look Nat, you remember when I left five months ago because the Army called me back?” she recalled his words in her head. “Well a few weeks ago we were sent to clean up some mess in Chechnya. We found...something—thermite arrows, at the scene. I thought you should know.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She took another sip from the bottle, already feeling the haze. It didn’t prove anything, but at the same time proved everything. He was alive, and he hadn’t come to look for her. She stayed there for a while, taking a swig each moment she thought about Clint being the sole survivor of his family, the trauma that entailed, and that she had clearly still lost him. If he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be, and just like that—another ghost. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>By the time Steve found her, her cheeks were raw and soaked with tears. She hadn’t noticed him enter, returning from his supply run into the city.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nat...” he croaked out, making his presence known before she could down another gulp. She frantically turned to let her eyes absorb his appearance, but just as quickly turned away in a slouch to wipe at her face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Steve put the groceries down on the nearby end table and strode over to the couch, plopping down next to her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What did it this time?” He murmured low and deep as he stared absently at the wall in front of them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Rhodey called.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He jerked in her direction, concern and surprise littering his features. It was the first they had heard from anyone in months.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He thinks,” she gulped, “I think...Clint might be alive.” Her eyelid twitched and another few teardrops leaked onto her cheek. She took another sip from the bottle. “They found his weapons, and several bodies in a warehouse halfway around the world.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And another sip.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Steve contemplated her words, watching her face intently, before reaching for the bottle himself and gently plucking it from her fingers. He placed it on the coffee table in front of them. She turned towards him in surprise, scanning his eyes for proverbial answers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>After a moment, he gazed directly at her, voice a low hum, “Nat...We’ll—we’ll figure something out. But please, don’t do this to yourself.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He doesn’t want to be found, so he won’t be. He’s just as dead as the rest of them,” she trailed off in a hoarse whisper. Then her expression gravitated towards him, “Steve,” she continued breathlessly, “Where have you been?” she looked up at him, pleading.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had been gone for several hours. “Yeah,” he took a deep breath, eyes darting off to the side, “I meant to tell you, the craziest thing happened this time.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She leaned into him, brows knitted.</em>
</p><p><em>“I was leaving the store, walking back to my parking spot and I noticed some woman following me—old habits,” he smirked. Natasha let out a breathy chuckle. “I diverted paths and had her follow me into an alley, and I turned, and she let out this huge gasp, ‘It </em>is<em> you,’ she said. And then she explained that she knew who I was, but she recognized me because we had met in person before...at one of Sam’s VA meetings.”</em></p><p>
  <em>She let out a shaky breath. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And then she just broke down, so I comforted her. After a moment she insisted I follow her back to her place for a coffee, which was just around the corner. She had apparently moved back to New York a little while after Sam left DC. She was just...so happy to see a familiar face.” Steve was staring straight into her. When he noted the awkwardness, he glanced down, fiddling with his thumbs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natasha’s eyes widened, “Did you...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No—no. Nothing like that.” He shook his head ever so slightly, making eye contact with her again, “We just sat and talked, and it was...nice, you know?” Her expression grew solemn, as it occurred to her that she had perhaps been ‘bottling’ around him too much lately. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“She told me she was trying to start up a new group...here in New York; for Sam and also for everyone left behind. She thought it must have been some kind of sign, seeing me at the store today, because she thinks I could be a perfect mentor, and that I could encourage people to come out.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Steve, that’s...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah. A lot to take in.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That sounds incredible.” She reached over to caress his shoulder.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t know if I’m even qualified for something like this, but it could be a great way to help people, you know? And commuting into the city every few days...It’ll feel like having a real job again.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Commuting...” It left her breath with a barely audible whisper. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His expression hardened. “Nat. I never said I was leaving the compound.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But you must have thought about it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She caught him hesitate, a subtle flash across his features that she was too keen to dismiss. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “We’re partners. Even with the world ended. I can’t imagine it any other way...” he concluded.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She couldn’t explain why she felt a pang of disappointment upon hearing the word. “But you thought about it.” She uttered hoarsely, glancing down.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He sighed. “For a moment. Maybe.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You don’t see a future for us here.”</em>
</p><p><em>For a moment his tone grew cold, and distant, “I didn’t say that.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Nat. This place—it’s magnificent. But it’s a remnant. These walls haunt us every day, keeping us...suspended in a state of...epochal...flux. How long are we going to keep reaching out; to Tony, Rhodes,...Bruce?” He enunciated the last name with the slightest emphasis. “What if—“ he paused to collect his tone, “What if there are other ways we can make ourselves useful again? Maybe we can attempt to take our lives back, and in doing so, take back </em>their <em>legacy.”</em></p><p>
  <em>She turned to look at him then, conflict and guilt and hurt writhed in her features.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He sensed her discomfort, and his eyes softened in defeat,“ They’ve been making it pretty clear for a while now that they don’t intend to look back.” She could tell he was feeling just as dejected as her. He dressed it up, in a way that would make it easier for him to digest, but deep down he knew it too. He took another deep inhale. “I think we need to accept that one way or another, the world we knew is dead.” He gazed at her intently, placing a hand on her shoulder, “They’re not coming back.” His last words escaped him as a whisper, to soften the blow of what was a clear revelation for the both of them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nat glanced between them. She swallowed, processing her next thought. “Rhodey told me something else you should know,” she murmured, with glassy eyes, “Pepper’s pregnant.” She gave a slight shrug of defeat, as her voice began to show hints of cracking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He scanned her features before letting out a tired breath. “Leave it to Tony to not tell us that.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No one’s even trying...” she muttered. After another brief moment of silence, she stood, intending to head to her room, and reached for the bottle.</em>
</p><p><em>He sprung up from the couch. “Nat, </em>I’m<em> trying! I’m trying to get us through this!” he gestured with his hands, fingers outstretched. She spun around slowly from where she had begun to pace toward the corridor, wanting to hide her unrelenting look of shame and defeat. </em></p><p>
  <em>“But you just look at me, like...like I’m about to disappear too.” He sighed, pleading with her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her facade was cracking under the weight of his words, bending at all the seams of her agony. God, how she wanted to just be able to accept them. “Can you blame me?” was all she managed, and still it rang hoarse and hollow to her ears.</em>
</p><p><em>He expelled another breath of frustration, eyes growing tight as he paced toward her. “I know that this has traumatized you more than you’re letting on. And no, I don’t blame you in the slightest. But retreating from it—retreating from </em>me<em> isn’t going to make this reality go away, Nat! At some point we’re going to have to face this.” He was looming over her now, “—Face the reality that they’re not coming back, no matter how long we wait here for something to change!” The bridge of his nose shriveled in discomfort, as he absorbed the decibels of his own voice; something she had noticed over the years. His eyes were now beginning to water. </em></p><p>
  <em>Her jaw tightened then. She took a step toward him with piercing eyes matching his. “Then what do you call that piece of brass you’ve been carrying around in your pocket?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His lips hovered apart for a brief second, then he pressed them together again, expelling a soft breath. He merely continued studying her, his frame looming above hers. When he said nothing, she shrugged and took another sip from the bottle.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He caught her arm as she began to turn away, studying her watery expression. The creases in his face relaxed. “Nat, what is this really about?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Maybe that you’d rather be dust than stuck here with me.” It stumbled out as a hoarse whisper. She fought the urge to meet his expression; to absorb the way his features brandished his anguish and pity. “There’s a reason it’s here, with you, and not in the mausoleum." She jerked her chin downward toward the pocket he carried his compass in. “We’re not so different after all.” She punctuated with a raise of her brow. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He relinquished pressure on his grip of her arm, stunned by her asservation. “Nat—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“All these years later, together against all odds to defy the darkness, and we couldn’t…I couldn’t give you any peace.” She struggled against his grasp, her face writhed in layers of hurt, inches from his, “You’re still frozen, Steve. Now the future is gone too, and we both are.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s what you want to believe?” he croaked with a snarl. Her confession had pummeled through to his core, and she felt it when he shook her again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Just say it,” she hissed, unrelenting.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Say it!” she demanded after another moment of silence, whacking him in the arm, tears threatening to fall, blue eyes peering into green. The compound was silent, save for Sam’s playlist echoing softly through the inertia.</em>
</p><p>Love me<br/>Or leave me<br/>Let me go my own way...</p><p>
  <em>And gazing into that sea of despair, he found his resolve, like a blinding light in the distance tearing through layers and layers of fog. His lips fell to hers; heavy, sloppy. She pressed herself into him, forcing him to eat her words. His hand slid to her waist, the other threading through the shoulder length tresses at the back of her head. They broke apart for a quick intake of breath, taking a moment to study each others’ expressions; irises melting into irises. They leaned into one another, mouths falling into place again. She pushed his lips aside with her tongue, gliding along the inside of his bottom lip. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He began to walk her backward, arms clamoring for a secure place at her sides. She felt her back hit the wall then, and at once he reached under her thighs, hoisting her up against it. A resounding gentle thud ghostly echoed throughout the foyer, followed by a soft grunt that instinctively escaped her core. He seemed to recoil ever so slightly, suddenly becoming aware of his own strength in this context. But Natasha was already connecting the dots of just what he could do with her body, and the realization sent heat rushing to her core. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She kissed him harder, hitching her knees around his pelvis, and Steve’s brain already seemed to be moving on, because he matched her ferocity, fingers thumbing with the bottom hem of her shirt. She helped him pull it up over her head. She reached for the front of his jeans, fumbling with his belt while he ogled her partially bare chest and caressed the tops of her thighs, admiring the way she felt tangled around him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>As soon as she managed to pull his zipper down, they were both grasping for his shirt. He finished tugging it off and tossed it to the side. He pressed against her again, mouthing at the crook of her jaw. A breathy moan escaped her lips as she draped her palms across the hard planes of his chest, anchoring herself to him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His lips found hers again. His fingers on one hand twiddling with the drawstring of her shorts, the other still nestled underneath her to keep her propped to his level. She reached in front to help him untie it, and then he yanked at the waistband, slowly pulling her underwear down along with her bottoms. She felt herself shiver as his calloused palm slowly moved down her thigh. His eyes flicked back up to hers, low-lidded with lust, as her bottoms fell to the floor.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She choked out a gasp, reaching for his waist again to palm at his cock before grasping it gently in her hand. He grunted, peering into her while she caressed him. She glanced downward at the sight of her dainty fingers gently working him. She’d theorized about this image before, shamelessly, in odd instances of contemplation—wondering just how large the serum could have made him, and if being the ‘perfect soldier’ included being the perfect specimen for sex. And she was pleasantly enthralled by what she was seeing now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>After a particularly forceful tug, he grunted in her ear, before moving to her lips again. As he kissed her, his fingertips, warm with sweat and desperation, inched inward underneath her thigh, prying at her entrance in rhythmic strokes while he mouthed at her neck. Gasping, and firmly gripping his cock, she locked her eyes with his as she positioned them, and finally slid onto him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her lips parted as his breath hitched. She studied his eyes, wanting to read his thoughts, to savour his every reaction. He was still at first, completely encapsulated by her. He radiated an intricate reverence that she hadn’t read from any man before. And just like another one of her rampant thoughts, she surmised that this was possibly his first time with a woman after all. He had always managed to carefully dodge queries about his sex life, even when they were holed up in some dilapidated crack den in the Caucasus Mountains, with nothing else to talk about. But the thought turned her on all the more. She wanted him to love this, to be hers; to fuck him so good, he’d never stare at that damned compass again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Holding their gaze, she began to roll her hips, taking him in, allowing him to gracefully fill her. He was mesmerized, completely locking his eyes onto hers, as he started thrusting into her, soft grunts escaping his clenched jaw. She refused to break eye contact as he increased the ferocity of this thrusts. He remained staring her down as he slammed her up into the wall, over and over again, digging a little bit deeper with every motion. she studied every particle of his features, and she realized that this was the first time they were really, truly, seeing each other; as celestial equals, bound on the same empyrean coil. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She answered each of his pounding jabs with soft cries and moans, like she was reciting a prayer in his name. He leaned against her, sandwiching her between the hard, rigid planes of his body, and the cool smoothness of the wall; shielding her from the harshness of their reality, enveloping her in an aura of lust; his sticky scent clinging itself to the cells of her skin. He cried out after a particularly deep thrust, bracing himself on the wall just above her shoulder, his palm breaching through the drywall. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natasha felt more heat rush to her centre as the dust he just created fluttered onto her bare shoulder, as the dead world surrounding them literally crumbled away, and just the two of them remained. She kissed him hard, her tongue beckoning for entrance into his mouth. And then, forehead pressing against hers, he backed them away from the wall, and began carrying her down the hall, toward his room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>With her back freed, he reached behind her and clawed at the clasp of her bra, sending it cascading down her shoulders with one single violent tug. He broke from kissing her to steal A glance of her bare breasts, raking his eyes over every inch of her curves as she clamored her arms around his neck, pressing feathery kisses to the side of his face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He padded them around the narrow corridors into his room, bracing them both against the door frame. She grunted again in pleasure as the force sent him hitching himself deeper into her. He tightened his hold and slowly backed her toward the bed, eventually collapsing onto it with his knees, sending them both tumbling into the mattress. He snaked an arm around the small of her back, lifting her upright while he pounded into her, and watched the way her body jolted over and over again from his force. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He shifted his attention to her chest again, his other arm rubbing up along the curves of her breasts as he reached behind her to cradle her neck. He pressed against her, capturing her lips in another searing kiss, before trailing his mouth down to her collarbone, and then lapping at her cleavage with his tongue and hot breathed, open mouthed kisses. His eyes flicked back and forth from her chest to her face, drinking in the sight of her completely, and she knew what his eyes were conveying without him having to say it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The weight of him on top of her was intoxicating; the scent of his musk, and a hint of yesterday’s cologne. She was enamoured by how he had so forcefully positioned their bodies. His cock hitting her at this angle had her limbs falling limp, and she was glad he had the sheer strength to hold her up against him, because she was absolutely lost in this, giving in to him completely.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She gripped onto his sides, running her fingernails down his back, and he picked up the pace, his thrusts losing their rhythm, becoming more erratic, as he chased his orgasm, bringing both of them closer to absolution. A front strand of his hair damp with sweat, fell loose and dangled low in front of his eyes. It was sexy and endearing. She loved how long and rugged he had let it grow, and she had teased him about it several times while on the run. She smiled and dragged her nails upward into his scalp, feeling his silky, blond hair. He hummed in contentment.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She gasped in short, breathy waves, as she felt her own release coming. They fell lower onto the mattress, and he watched her expressions intently while her vaginal walls tightened around him. With his left arm still bracing her back, he reached down with his right to caress her thigh, halting around her knee, and hitching her leg up to his side in a swift motion that matched the timing of one of his thrusts, the new angle opening her up even more. They continued to coax one another to euphoria; watching, feeling, experiencing. Their mouths fell together, open and hot, swallowing each other’s moans and cries. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She was drunk on the way their bodies looked and felt together...fit together; the sheen of sweat on his skin, his beard brushing against her jaw, the hard planes of his muscles working them both to elysium. Natasha thought she could do this forever, and she wondered why in the hell they had waited so damn long to be living like this. </em>
</p><p><em>There was no moment of thought to the proverbial line. They were rushing toward it like a finish line, clinging to it like a life raft in their pool of grief. There was nothing now except this. No right way to live, or die. She could see it now, in his eyes, and in the reflection of her own in his. They were in a space between spaces, a time between times; and the only thing left tangible, and malleable, and real was </em>him.</p><p>
  <em>She came in fiery waves, clinging to him and milking him tighter...needing him to feel what she was feeling. He watched her with a deep intensity, foregoing his own release for just a while longer so he could live the moment in hers. She cried out in a single moan louder than before, and then pressed her open mouth to his shoulder as she rode out her orgasm. He was snapping his hips now, thrusting desperately so he could reach her on the other side. He was always struggling so hard for control, to be a monument, and she was seeing him now at the end of that endeavour, with nothing left to stand for, forgoing all of that control and stoicism. It was breaking down, just like the rest of society, and as he finally emptied himself into her, clutching for her hips, running his thumbs over her scar, her breasts, her chin, she became married to this version of him that surrendered to his most primal nature. And she decided right then that she never wanted to let go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When they both finally came down, they studied each other’s features in silence, save for the soft sounds of their languid breaths seeking solace. Natasha noticed a new haze in his eyes that was never there before, and she suddenly understood why the universe had conspired to keep them from crossing that line for as long as it could. It felt like transcendence.</em>
</p><p><br/>***</p><p>Natasha gasped, and then she was instinctively choking out sobs, the tears expelling from her misty eyes. For a minute she just laid there on top of his shield, and cried. </p><p>When she regained her footing, she forcefully pulled it from the pile of scrap, taking another moment to examine it before slinging it across her back. She set her sights once again on the same piece of rebar. She knew it was the key to the pile’s structural integrity. This time, with several huffs and what felt like the absolute last of her strength, she freed it, jumping from the tumbling rubble as the wall came crashing down just in front of her and the rover; both now bathed in a curtain of sunlight. She sighed of relief, a hint of a chuckle in her breath, and laid back against the cool, hard concrete. </p><p>***</p><p>She was stirred by the soft hum of a nearby whirring, shifting in and out of range. She forced herself to open her eyes. She flinched when she surveyed what she was looking at. Hovering above her was Sam’s bright red utility drone. “You gotta be freaking kidding me,” she mumbled to herself, lips unable to contain the grin and bewilderment plastered across her features. Natasha would have never guessed she could be this happy to see an A.I. </p><p>“H-how?” She whispered, as if it could somehow answer her. But it clicked then that something must have triggered its control panel and auto response—the rover, which had built in control for Sam’s drone, was beginning to charge up. She sprung to her feet. “Redwing, engage exodus protocol on rover one.”</p><p>As she watched the rover stir to life and begin to move, she struggled to contain her silent laughter. Sam would never believe she had just referred to it by name.</p><p>***</p><p>It was dusk now. Natasha sat atop the rover underneath the darkening evening sky, staring out at the dilapidated building in front of her. She looked down at the pile of things she had rescued. With the last pop tart in one hand, and a radio in the other, she took a deep breath, shaking her head, but pressing the button anyway.</p><p>“This is..Natasha Romanoff...030814...2100...I think. Steve...Clint..Tony...whoever. If anyone can read me, I’m alive. I don’t know how, or what it is I’m currently seeing,” she let out a low rumble of a snicker, “Maybe I’m just in hell, being tortured.” She paused. “This place is so strange. It looks like...home...the end of home. It’s like we were never here—Maybe we never should have been. I searched the remains of the compound hoping to find food or water, but all I found were ghosts. Maybe—maybe Thor had the right idea. What’s the point if all there is is pain and suffering?” She wiped a stray tear from her face, “Real cheerful, Nat,” she added sarcastically in an aside. After a breath she continued, “Ignore me, okay. I haven’t had water in like...two days. I need to find some soon or...I don’t know if I’ll...” her voice hitched, but she forced herself to shake it away.</p><p>“Anyway, I doubt anyone can hear me on this piece of crap radio—I don’t even know if it’s real. But in case this is the only time I get to do this, I just want to say...Clint..please don’t feel bad about leaving me here. You did what you had to do. I’m proud of you.” She felt the tiniest smile creep up her cheeks, and with that she clicked off the transmission.</p><p>She hopped into the rover, and after picking a direction, just kept driving into the grey horizon, hoping to find something beyond the dead zone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Desiccation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha voyages through the unknown wasteland, in hopes of finding a reason to keep going.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I appreciate the patience this week! Things got rather busy over the weekend because I turned the big 25. Minor warning for Natasha getting to a bit of a dark place toward the end of the chapter. But on a lighter note I was about five seconds away from just calling it "Thirst," lmao. That should make sense after reading. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She lost count of the hours, staring at nothing but barren dust and the remains of charred plants. She looked over at Redwing, resting atop the passenger seat. It was sort of like having a companion. Sam’s music was plugged into the rover’s auxiliary, sampling another favourite, more punk soundtrack from their exile.</p><p>
  <em>Day after day</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I will walk, and I will play</em>
  <br/>
  <em>But the day after today</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I will stop, and I will start</em>
</p><p>A sudden mass was visible into the indigo horizon, the first shift in scenery startling her. She smiled at first, hoping for a good sign, but as the rover approached, the picture became clear: she was wading into a dust storm.</p><p>The thick clouds drew nearer, spinning violently, with small cracks of lightning drizzling the expanse. </p><p>“Shit,” she bit off under her breath. She fumbled with the gear shift before the sinking realization hit that turning back would be pointless. After a moment of pause, her hand slid it back into forward; bracing for impact. Foot stomping on the gas, she let out the scream she’d been holding in since waking up in this godforsaken place as the rover cut its way through the storm. </p><p>
  <em>Day after day</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I get angry, and I will say</em>
  <br/>
  <em>That the day is in my sight</em>
  <br/>
  <em>When I take a bow, and say good night</em>
</p><p>The rover rocked violently from side to side, some of the dust fishing through all the tiny openings in the fabrication. Natasha’s eyes grew wide as she gazed out into the spectacle. </p><p>There were faces—hundreds of thousands, formed from rust coloured particles; and she could hear wails, and cries of agony.</p><p>“Oh god,” she whispered with a shaky breath, her chest sinking, and bile rising in her throat. It was <em>them</em>—the fallen. She could make out some distinct phrases, most of them cries for help, and they got louder as she waded through. And then she saw Sam.</p><p>She whimpered at the sight of him after so long. “Save us,” he wailed upon making eye contact with her.</p><p>“This isn’t real.”</p><p>And then she began to see the others; Wanda, Barnes, Fury.</p><p>Tears began to fall, furiously. “I tried!” she cried. She stopped the rover, unable to see anything as the figures closed in around it.</p><p>Sam's figure stopped by the driver side window, jolting her in his direction. “Transcend,” was all he offered. </p><p>“You’re not real. You’re not real!” she screamed, holding her head in her lap as she waited for the storm to pass. </p><p>She couldn’t tell how long it had been before light returned and the dust settled. She continued on aimlessly in the same direction.</p><p>Just as she felt the dehydration pulling at her seams, it finally happened—raindrops. They fell in slow speckled patterns at first, and then a frazzled haze. Her eyes lit up for the first time in a while, and she hurried off the gas and out of the vehicle, stopping to drink it in.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>Hot water and steam caressed her skin, as her muscles shrugged off the remnants of tension and her and Steve’s mixed sweat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It had been almost forty eight hours since they fucked, and it had been the only thing on her mind since. Yet they had barely talked about it, beyond sudden shy smiles and lighthearted exchanges. But unmistakably, the aura around them was different. Every action, every feather-like touch connected them in some transformative time and space. And when he’d strutted into the gym earlier in nothing but a pair of long johns, she just wanted to be in that space with him again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>As they put their energy to sparring, she caught him eyeing her every move more intently; studying the way her tendons flexed and curved; immortalizing her image in his mind; moving in tandem with her all the more fluidly. And so after he finally pressed her against the mat and they unwound their bodies with hurried breaths, she strutted up to her shower.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her mind had finally gone blank when she overheard the bathroom door unlatch, and her heart skipped a beat. Her back still to the entrance to the shower, she turned to glance at him in her periphery. He shed his only article of clothing as he approached the panes of beveled glass separating them. She snapped back to face the faucet, resuming her lather apathetically.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She felt a cool rush wick at her back and thighs, and the weight of him enveloping the </em>
  <br/>
  <em>space behind her. He inched forward, his skin just hovering over hers; the warmth of his cock, hanging full and flush by her ass. She let her eyes flutter closed while taking a stuttered breath. He reached his arms around her abdomen, softly caressing her, feeling up her body, before his fingers landed in staggered intervals at her breasts. She couldn’t contain the moan that escaped her as he caressed and squeezed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She whipped around, kissing him on the mouth, drawing him into the shower’s stream, their bodies becoming baptized in carnal wetness. He shuddered against her, his tongue demanding entrance. When she reached for his cock, he swatted her hand away, flipping her, and pressing her front against the glass. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His forcefulness aroused her, sending heat and wetness dripping from her centre. She wanted him like this—so encapsulated by their lust, emboldened anew. And she let him bury his cock in her and thrust her against the glass, not a care in the world if his strength shattered every wall in the compound. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He moved his hands around her breasts, rubbing at her clit with his right while he moaned hot breathed praises against her neck. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She drew out his name, long and whispered, assuring him that she was his in this moment, surrendered, and he thrust himself deeper into her, clinging to her as their pasts were washed away from them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natasha realized that the space between spaces wasn’t merely an escape; a metaphor. It was real, and she hungered for this reality to engulf everything.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They came one after another, loud and heavy, banging against the fragile glass. </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>Just when the hunger had become unbearable, the rover stalled among the dunes. She slammed her palm against the wheel in agony as the machine expelled the last of its current energy supply attempting to free the locked wheels.</p><p>“Fuck!” she bit off, stray tears flying from their sockets. With her head resting against the wheel she expelled a breath. “Redwing, recommend repair options.”</p><p>The A.I. piped up, spitting out a choppy string of phrases that haphazardly mimicked Sam’s tone of voice. She whimpered at the sound.</p><p>
  <em>“Rover One requires a minimum of twelve hours charge in full sunlight to engage backup thrusters. Current UV rays are at 63% capacity.”</em>
</p><p>“I won’t make it that long.” She murmured, barely enough energy to lift her head from the dash, the terrifying realization setting in. After a moment in agony she gathered the last of her resolve, and unlatched the door.</p><p>She took only what she could pocket; the old mp3 player and its knotted earphones, her canteen, and the radio...<em>Just in case</em>. Clinging to Steve’s shield in one hand, her pistol hoisted at her thigh, and with Sam’s goggles around her eyes, fastening some scrap cloth from the rover’s backseat into a head covering, she headed out into the dusty wasteland. </p><p>The sun beating down was unbearable. It was almost cruelly ironic. The goggles offered some protection from the whirling grit, but with her supply of drinking water at its final drops, she was quickly losing to the harsh environment. Natasha had no idea what she had hoped to find, but it was better, she resolved, than waiting out death in a ditch.</p><p>Her mind became foggy, her limbs losing energy fast, and with that she collapsed weak onto her knees.</p><p>She let out one final thundering scream that echoed across the void of desert. “I’ve lost everything, do you hear me?!” She demanded to the universe, “I lost my friends! My family! I’ve got nothing left,” she choked over the last words with sobs wracking her entire body. </p><p>As the moment passed, and the sobs receded away, her expression grew blank, overcome by a new compulsion. She reached to her thigh, sliding the gun from its holster, and pointed it to her temple. She hadn’t the faintest prediction of what would happen when she pulled the trigger; she didn’t know if she was alive or dead, or some state in between, but nullity had to better than wherever she was, she reasoned. If this place was some kind of hell-loop had intended for her to reach this outcome all along, she was relieved to end it.</p><p>Just as she squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for oblivion, a piercing screech pulled her back to her surroundings. She opened her eyes, and her mouth gaped in awe of a large bird, casting a shadow over the dunes. It was the first creature she had seen. She choked out another sob of amusement. The bird was almost featherless, pink-skinned and wrinkly. It had the appearance of a vulture, but looked alien all the same. It began to disappear over the horizon of a tall dune in Natasha’s path.</p><p>“Wait!” She piped up, forcing her limbs to run after it. Her entire body screamed at her. “Take me to where you live!” It became the single promise that a potentially habitable place existed. </p><p>She clumsily dug the toes of her boots into the mounds of dust, clamoring upwards. Finally, with one last forceful tug, she was pulling herself atop the edge and to her feet. The sight before her nearly sent her stumbling back down.</p><p>A vast valley of green, cradled by the rock and dunes; it was hell’s garden of Eden. She thought it had to be a hallucination, then she noticed the bird, perched atop a dry tree branch sticking up from the nearby sand. “Thank you,” Natasha punctuated, before turning her gun to the bird’s heart and releasing the trigger. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Garden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha crosses the threshold of green in hope of reprieve, but there may be more to such a miraculous place than meets the eye.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last call out of heavy references to the 100 in this chapter. (I just had to include Clarke's monologue from 5x01, it's so fitting for a character like Natasha as well). After this though, there will be three more chapters, and things are going to take a serious dive from here, plot wise. I hate to speak it into existence, but I may have to go on a longer update hiatus to finish ironing out the ending, but it should be worth it in the end!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I used to think life could be about more than just surviving, but I’m not sure anymore.” Natasha’s voice echoed aimlessly over the radio. “Animals don’t feel guilty when they kill. They just do it. They kill, or they get killed.”</p><p>A carcass of poultry now rested above a small fire, shaded by deep boughs of evergreen and deciduous leaves. </p><p>She tossed a cleaned bone into the dirt, “I told myself that every life I took was for a reason, but the truth is, the other side had reasons too. Their reasons to want us dead were the same as ours. It was <em>us</em> or <em>them</em>—kill or be killed...simple as that.” </p><p>She stood atop a fallen tree in the ravine, overlooking a pool of pristine fresh water, and managed a bewildered chuckle. Eyes glued to the scene, she clicked the button of the radio again. “So what now?” She asked rhetorically to the wind. “What becomes of the Black Widow when there’s no one left to kill? I guess we’ll find out...because my fight is over. The question is, who am I <em>now?</em>”</p><p>She tossed the radio to the ground beside her, and began to shed her entire uniform for the first time since falling from the cliff. She dove head first into the cool, clear water, washing away the pain and torment of the last few days. </p><p>Afternoon faded to evening as she walked the winding trails, and after some time, she could see small structures peeking up through the tree line. She raced toward them in excitement, but then slowed to a stealthy gallop, reminding herself not to forget everything in her better nature. She peeked around the corner of what looked like a small hut of a house, and could see that the dozen or so small structures opened up into a clearing, forming the bare bones of a village. </p><p>It appeared almost mythical, or alien in nature; with odd wisps of tools and fabrics twisted among the branches of the trees above, and buildings greyed and dilapidated. Above all, despite the clear evidence of the presence of recent inhabitants, there appeared to be a complete absence of sentient life. “Stranger, and stranger,” Natasha lamented under her breath. </p><p>She conducted a light sweep of the nearest huts for food and useful supplies, but didn’t uncover much. <em>Maybe it’s why they left,</em> she pondered. She also noticed a giant pit of charcoal in the centre of the clearing—evidence of a large fire, and next to a rotisserie made of sticks, a pile of large bones. “At least there’s animals present,” she muttered to herself sarcastically. </p><p>After she grew bored, and what felt like the passage of a couple of hours, she huddled into a makeshift chair that rested atop a porch with a decent sight line, as dusk began to fall. With the shield resting upright against her knees, she clicked on the radio once more. “Steve, I wish you could see this anomaly I’m in...Reminds me of that night in Kavak—bruised up in that old barn...but the beauty was in the stillness of everything going on around us. We just couldn’t see it yet” A deep, soft chuckle escaped her melancholic features, “It’s like whatever destroyed the rest of the world missed this one spot. If this is supposed to be my hell, it’s a cruel metaphor.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>She studied her reflection in the mirror, not sure how she felt about the image staring back at her. Her hair, now resting at her cleavage, was beginning to ombre into her natural red colour at the roots. She had muted the hue for now with a quick wash for the occasion, though it still felt like the days of keeping up appearances were long past. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her silky, champagne dress seemed to hang off of her slender frame in all the wrong ways. She’d only ever worn this dress when she needed to keep up appearances. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natasha pulled at one strap of the dress until it slipped down her arm, exposing her left breast, and part of the ribcage beneath it. She stared at the marking of bluish flesh decorating her torso there. It matched another bruise on her right thigh. She felt no qualms about it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Almost ready?” Steve’s voice entered  the room. She hurriedly pulled the strap back up so he wouldn’t see, and switched to fastening her earrings. “Mhmm,” she muttered, watching him appear behind her in the reflection. He wore a black suit, with a single beige rose clipped to his breast pocket. He reached down to grab the necklace resting out on top of the dresser, and reached around her to fasten it to her neck. She forced a slight smile at the gesture, even though it still felt shameful to be happy in the absence of everything, and everyone else. It felt too soon, to the both of them, for a wedding.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They boarded one of the smaller quinjets for a faster travel time, and touched down in the woods by the lake house just as sunset was beginning to wash over the water. As they stepped into the yard, they were greeted with soft smiles by Tony and Pepper. They stood hand in hand, Pepper’s dress a similar length to Natasha’s, but pearly white, and concealing a healthy baby bump. She reached out to hug Natasha. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Glad you guys decided to make it,” Tony addressed Steve earnestly. Steve reciprocated with a light smile, “Of course, Tony.” Words remained unsaid between the two of them, but in their own way, everyone attending the ceremony had made a silent vow to put aside their reality for just one night, for the sake of old friends. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The gathering was exceptionally quaint, for Tony’s standards. Natasha knew this wouldn’t hold a candle to the type of wedding he once envisioned. Natasha and Steve made their way down the porch, to where Rhodey, Bruce, and Happy stood chatting. They were the only other individuals present from within the inner circle of the Avengers. The dozen or so other guests were old acquaintances of Tony or Pepper. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natasha locked eyes with Rhodey, and the two reached for an embrace. “It’s good to see you,” he uttered. Once he released her he continued, “I’m sorry again, about Clint. I know it would have been nice for him to be here.” She met his eyes with a solemn stare, and nodded intently. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Tasha. Steve.” Bruce nodded in their direction. The fragments of their no longer actualized team permeated as awkwardness.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey Bruce,” she gave in to meeting the greeting of an old friend with a lighthearted smile, just as Steve met Bruce in an embrace. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>There wasn’t much to say from either of them, despite the distance and lapse in time, for their lives had all grown stagnant. Bruce seemed to take note of the way that Natasha and Steve hovered around each other, always a hair’s breath away, but never touching, except for when she grabbed hold of Steve’s wrist to lead him to their seats by the dock; she could swear she noticed his alabaster skin turn slightly more pale. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tony and Pepper sealed their vows beneath the setting sun and falling dusk. The music that followed was rather ambient for a wedding, but felt appropriate for the circumstances. “Dance with me,” Natasha framed the words as a statement, reaching across their table for Steve’s hand. He obliged without saying a word, and walked her to the open platform, where they swayed together, only two other couples in the backdrop. She didn’t bother to scan for anyone else’s reactions. It was the end of the world. </em>
</p><p>To get my heart, out of this hell<br/>And my mind, out of this jail<br/>There is no clothes that I could buy<br/>That could turn, back in time<br/>There is no vacation spot I could fly<br/>That could bring back, a piece of real life<br/>Real life, what does it feel like?<br/>I ask you tonight</p><p>And wise man say<br/>One day, you'll find your way</p><p>
  <em>“Do you think they’d be happy to see us all like this?” she whispered into his shoulder.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He breathed in her scent. “I don’t know,” after a brief silence he added, “But I think Sam would be happy to know that we’re still together.” The last word dragged from his lips like smoke from a cigarette.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His eye was drawn to her wrist as it shuffled from the back of his neck to his collar. He grasped it in his hand, staring intently. “Nat, what’s this?” He motioned to a purplish bruise just above the inside of the joint. Her eyes widened, then relaxed almost instantaneously, but he seemed to catch her shift in expression, knotting his eyebrows ever so slightly. “It’s nothing, must be from when I stumbled against the weight rack in the gym the other day.” He didn’t press her further. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>They began their round of goodbyes around midnight, almost poetically. As Natasha released Tony from their embrace, she half expected he and Steve to finally cross that boundary, but it wouldn’t happen that night. “Take good care of this one,” she motioned to Pepper, “she’s carrying the future.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And you take care of yourselves,” Happy added on a final note. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that compound is a tomb. If you ever feel like you’re ready to give it up, we can help you find a new place.” He placed an arm on Natasha’s shoulder.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thanks,” Steve smiled at him. Then they were boarding the quinjet, and back at the compound in almost no time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“When were you gonna tell me about the bruises,” he said once they stepped inside the dark recesses of the compound. His voice pierced the silent void of the early morning.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She paused her footsteps in front of him. Her gold heels dangled from her fingers, curled at her side. “What do you mean?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t play stupid, Nat,” he moved swiftly to be in front of her, lightly reaching for her wrist. She could only make out a hint of his expression in the dimness of pale moonlight sweeping through the windows.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You saw...in the mirror.” She squeezed her eyes shut. He said nothing for a moment. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m hurting you,” he sighed, releasing her wrist and placing his palm to his forehead. “Should’ve known...” he bit off the whisper.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey,” she raised her arms to caress either side of his face, her voice emboldened in a soothing tone, “You are not hurting me.” Her eyes pierced into his. “Steve...I’m enjoying this—us. It’s not your fault. You’re...the only thing that makes sense right now. I wouldn’t want you any other way.” She sighed, and then moved her lips to meet his. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He let her hover over him for an instance before pulling back. “And what happens when I go too far?” The words came out monotone and steady, but his eyes held the pain he felt. He sat down on an end chair in the foyer, head in hands. She stalked over to him, and cradled his head against her diaphragm. He sighed against her. “I could seriously hurt you, Nat. Today it’s just bruises, tomorrow it could be...a broken bone.” </em>
</p><p><em>She ran her fingers across his scalp. “You won’t.” She straddled his lap in the chair, bringing herself to his eye level, “Hey, you won’t. I trust you.” Her eyes reached into his soul. The lids of his hung low with mesmerization and want. He raked them over her lips and the curve of her bare shoulders before surrendering himself to her touch; to the raw aura of </em>them. </p><p>
  <em>Their kiss was hard and desperate. He slid the thin straps of her dress down her arms in one swift movement, as she fumbled with his belt, freeing his cock. He pulled her dress upward at her thighs, causing a tear to spring out from the bottom hem. He pried the crotch of her panties to one side as she let herself fall on top of him, drawing him in. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She rode him to their climax in powerful, sharp thrusts; their mouths breathing hot against one another as he forced his hips to meet her motions.</em>
</p><p><br/>***</p><p>Her mind snapped back to the trees in her sightline. She held the radio up to her mouth once more. “God, this would be so much easier if I knew that you were alive, that you guys had won.” Her eyes were peeled on the tree line. “If I knew that I could...see somebody agai—“ She trailed off as a fleeting movement caught her eye in the distance. Natasha’s heart stopped. It looked like a person—small and still, staring back at her, but the sky was too hazy with nightfall now to make out a face. </p><p>Natasha rose to her feet, picking up the shield as she stood. The figure didn’t appear to flinch, so Natasha inched forward. After a few paces, they seemed to catch on, and what she now realized to be a child darted off in another direction.</p><p>Natasha’s heart started beating rapidly, “Wait! She called out as she followed in pursuit, “Please, I just want to talk! I’m not gonna hurt you. Are you alone?...Are there others?”</p><p>When it seemed that she had all but lost the trail, Natasha stopped in her tracks, and spun around, and the child was there, standing in front of her, as if materialized from thin air.</p><p>Natasha almost jumped backward in surprise, but forced herself to keep calm. The child was human; a little girl with fiery red hair, just like her own. She shuddered. “Who are you?” She begged, “Where are we?”</p><p>The girl said nothing, but trotted past Natasha and halted to a stop in front of what looked like two small graves resting in front of a section of chainlink fence. Her eyes grew wide. The little girl just turned back to stare at Natasha with vacant, pleading eyes. </p><p>
  <em>“Why, cause he knows your daddy’s name?” </em>
</p><p>Natasha gasped as she heard Clint’s voice appear out of thin air, echoing a fragment of their conversation leading up to her death. <em>“Clint?”</em> She breathed in exasperation.</p><p>And then her own response followed, in the same vacant echo. <em>“I didn’t.”</em></p><p>“What is this?” She whispered absentmindedly, not expecting an answer. She stared back into the girl’s green eyes and as if by some higher consciousness, the wheels began to turn inside Natasha’s head. Her eyes grew wide with a sharp realization. </p><p>“You’re...me.” Her body pushed her in the girl’s direction. With each stride she eyed the graves more intently, as the cryillic inscriptions slowly became legible. She read the names in her head, and a hand reached up to cup her mouth upon the realization that the name she now clung to as the sole inclination of the identity of her parentage was not one of the names inscribed on the graves. </p><p><em>“Natasha, daughter of Ivan.”</em> The red hooded figure’s voice resounded from the air, punctuating the silence with an intonation mirroring the first time he had uttered the words.</p><p>Tears flung from her eyes as frustration built deep in her chest. “What are you?! Why are you doing this to me?!” She screamed, looking up to the sky that was now saturated with wisps of navy and crimson. </p><p>And then the sky became pierced with something else entirely, as the booming sound of a single gunshot reverberated in the distance. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Tartarus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With the presence of intelligent life a potential reality, answers are finally imminent for Natasha regarding her predicament, and her next move.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Aaand I'm back!—with quite a feast of an update. The plot is pulling no punches this time around. I made this segment a little longer to make up for the wait. Hope you enjoy!</p><p>Also as an aside, I have yet to start watching TFATWS, because I’m waiting until my boyfriend can torrent all the episodes at once. But I also realized that it means finally crossing over to the other side of no longer being able to call this fic “canon compliant,” lmao. But I can’t wait to binge the show nonetheless. I need Sam back in my life!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha’s chest fell to her feet with the startling realization that she was no longer alone. She choked out a bewildered gasp.</p><p>Muffled yelling became audible, and then the shuffling of many feet, and finally, a single adult-sized figure dressed in archaic armour with a spear in hand appeared out of the tree line against the glow of the moonlight. More began to follow suit. Natasha glanced to her side in the girl’s direction, but the girl and the graves with the fence were now completely gone. Before she could process the multitude of thoughts running through her brain, she was pulled to the present conflict. </p><p>“Who goes here?!” bellowed a voice.</p><p>“I’m nobody,” Natasha shouted back, “Just someone who ended up here by mistake.”</p><p>The owner of the voice stepped into view. “Nobody ends up here by mistake.” He huffed the final phrase with a hard edge, and piercing amber eyes. He wasn’t human. </p><p>Natasha darted her eyes from her position at the bottom of the ravine to survey the crowd looking down at her. She spotted mostly humanoid looking figures, some looking almost identically human, and others entirely alien. She gasped again. </p><p>The alien who spoke first now pointed his weapon at her. It appeared to be some type of large gun. Natasha surmised it was the source of the shot from before. She swallowed hard. Placing the shield at her feet and slowly raising her hands above her head she added, “I don’t want any trouble. In fact, I’m kind of relieved,” she quirked a tight smirk, “I thought I was alone.”</p><p>“Quiet, demon!” His bright teal-coloured skin flexed over his muscles as he shoved his gun forward in protest. “You will not have us bested again this day, Devondra!” He was much bigger and bulkier than the average human.</p><p>Natasha cocked an eyebrow, but immediately relaxed her expression to plead with the stranger. Others began to raise weapons in defence. Natasha scanned the crowd again. She inferred that there were roughly sixty hostiles in her midst, but likely more. She sighed, accepting that she was vastly outnumbered. “I don’t know anything about this enemy you face. I’m not from this land. I fell from a cliff, and then I woke up here. That’s all I know.” She kept her hands above her head. </p><p>“Drop your weapon, Thelos,” another voice diffused the anxious silence, and stepped forward amongst the stanced warriors. She had bright green skin, adorned in the same strange armour, and dark black hair with fiery tips.</p><p>“Let us end this properly, Gamora.” Thelos replied, his eyes trained on Natasha. </p><p>Natasha breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of a familiar name. “<em>Gamora?</em>” she echoed, utterly bewildered yet again.</p><p>Gamora ignored her in favour of addressing Thelos again, “She said she fell from the cliff, the same as the rest of us.” She swatted his gun toward the ground, then finally glanced in Natasha’s direction. “Without us, she dies.”</p><p>***</p><p>They marched back in the direction of the village, allowing Natasha to trail with them without another word. She had a million questions, and it seemed no one was going to answer any of them. The crowd of warriors looked utterly weary, as if they mourned for something, and their skin and armour were covered in ashes and soot. Suddenly, she sensed someone approach her from behind. </p><p>“You knew my name. How?” Gamora appeared at her right side, with curious brows.</p><p>Natasha stared back before responding, her brain still collecting the thoughts. “How are you here...right now?” She shook her head, “I went back in time, I—I died before—“</p><p>“Time moves differently in this plane.” She gave Natasha a peering glance, and Natasha suddenly remembered they hadn’t formally met.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I know we’ve never met. I know all about what happened to you, though. My family and I were working with Rocket and Nebula to try to undo Thanos’ devastation.”</p><p>“Rocket and...Nebula? So he–the rest of the guardians...” Gamora’s steps slowed for an instance as she digested the revelation.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Natasha replied, with sunken eyelids.</p><p>“Peter was dead.” She whispered it softly with a vacant stare. “He was...” She tapped her fingertips to her collarbone in contemplation.</p><p>Natasha inhaled, her chest suddenly feeling heavy. “I–I don’t know if they were successful or not,” she lamented in response to what she perceived would be Gamora’s next question. “I died retrieving the soul stone for them...same as you.” </p><p>The alien surprised her yet again. “I do.”</p><p>Natasha raised an eyebrow with widened eyes.</p><p>“This plane is referred to as the Soul World,” Gamora began. “It serves as a collection pit for the souls of those who die by means of large amounts of mystical cosmic energy.”</p><p>“The stones.” Natasha punctuated.</p><p>“No one knows why it exists, or who created it, but in all my years of research preparing for the day of my father’s absolution, I learned it is tied to the existence of the soul stone.”</p><p>Natasha’s eyes grew wide. “So...when Thanos snapped his fingers...all those souls...”</p><p>The alien’s lip curved almost in-distinctively. “All of these people you see before you, including yourself, are here because we fell from the cliff.” Her eyes darted straight ahead. </p><p>“But there’s nearly a hundred of you here right now,” her eyes scanned the river of moving soldiers, “...and one stone...that...always ends up back on Vormir...How many times has the cycle been repeated?”</p><p>“You’re still thinking of the concept of time in four dimensions.” She let out a light snicker. “We come from many timelines...different realities...different people seeking the soul stone for different reasons.” Her coy smile grew at the sight of Natasha’s shock and confusion. “Think of this place as a space between spaces. Whoever created it intended to manifest a singular state of existence, freed from the object of mortality.”</p><p>She paused for a moment to absorb the revelation. “Then why is most of it a wasteland?” Natasha noticed Gamora suddenly grow contemplative, so she continued to pry. “When I was out there, in the dust storms I saw...a vision of the souls of people I knew that Thanos snapped away. I saw my home back on earth, reduced to rubble. Was it <em>him</em>?”</p><p>Gamora nodded ever so faintly. “When my father used the stones to erase half of all life, he created a surge of cosmic energy more powerful than anything since the creation of the universe itself. The stones sent them here—every single soul he destroyed. And then, almost as quickly as they arrived, they were suddenly gone, as if it had never happened.” She looked Natasha in the eyes with a glint in her own.</p><p>“They brought them back.” She breathed the words as a statement rather than a question, feeling a warmth overcome her entire body, and a sudden surge of absolution that seemed to swell and dwarf every ounce of suffering she had endured since the moment she had first awoken to dust and decay.</p><p>“Those who wandered this plane for near millennia had never seen anything like it in all their time here.” </p><p>The warmth Natasha felt was suddenly replaced by a chill running up her spine. “A thousand years aimlessly wandering this place? That sounds like a curse,” she lamented, then began nodding her head in realization. “So I guess there’s no magic hijack out of here for those of us who made the jump? We’re stuck here for eternity.” She felt her stomach sink again, but forced herself to shrug off the thought with a scoff of a laugh. This had to be hell after all.</p><p>Gamora narrowed her eyes. “So was the case, until now—This plane is dying.” She paused to catch Natasha’s gaze with her own, asserting the realness of their predicament with her eyes, and then darted away just as quickly, resuming her exposition. “When my father snapped his fingers, the very fabric of it became irrevocably plunged into chaos. A great darkness emerged some time after the trillions of souls first appeared.”</p><p>“Devondra?” Natasha parroted the name Thelos had uttered earlier that had him thoroughly petrified. </p><p>“You learn quickly, human.” Her words held the structure of a snide remark, but her tone was hollow and defeated. “It’s an entity that feeds on souls. It presents itself to us as a wave of fire that swallows all in its path. What you saw out in the wasteland, was a manifestation of that energy, no doubt culling you. It is able to manipulate the mystical energy woven into this land that allows us to manifest our memories; our triumphs and our greatest failures. We can barely begin to understand it. But there is a deep magic here, beyond any of us, and it is unraveling.”</p><p>“I haven’t seen the fire, but I’ve seen the aftermath—the dust and ruin. There’s nothing left out there, except for this...” she gestured around them with her head, “one area of green. It was almost prophetic to find it right when I did...Felt like I was dying of thirst out there in the wasteland, and I finally saw this strange bird fly over me, so I followed it and it led me here.”</p><p>For a moment, Natasha noticed Gamora’s expression betray her stoic resolve. She seemed fixated on an aspect of her testament, but continued. “No one left here has traversed far enough to know for sure, but this valley is the last safe haven in the soul world. Devondra’s flames encroach with every passing day, but we’ve been fighting her—to little avail...trying to survive for as long as we can before it swallows everything. We don’t know what happens if we starve in the wasteland. We don’t know if we’re dead or alive, or...something in between.”</p><p>“Make no mistake,” she declared while gracefully stepping over a fallen tree trunk in her path, pausing atop of it for a moment, “We all fall to the flame...sooner or later, even immortality catches up to us.”</p><p>Natasha felt a metaphorical knot bind in her stomach. When she had made the decision to jump and spare Clint this fate—in that moment she hadn’t had the time to truly process the thought of dying...of dying so violently, in a state of such agony. Now that she knew her soul’s existence was fleeting, and their course set, it seemed excruciatingly more terrifying than looking up at Clint’s suspended form in total declension. It was nothingness that awaited them, and her family would never know that she had been conscious, for an instance; however brief in their dimension. A chill rose over her bones. </p><p>The small peaks of roofs from the village finally appeared in front of the moonlight in the tree line. As it slid into view, it glowed a wild, warm hue, like a cluster of fiery corals against vast depths of sea. The abundance of stars above it intricately mapped a foreign galaxy. Natasha allowed herself the small solace of smiling for a moment at the wondrous sight, and the irony of noticing such a beauty in this place.</p><p>As the caravan of foot soldiers reached the clearing, they moved to huddle by the bonfire pit she’d noticed earlier, as Thelos started the fire again. When it was finally burning, another knelt over it holding what looked like pieces of armour and a severed arm, and tossed them into the flame. Those standing around the embers bowed their heads silently. </p><p>“It’s a cruel irony,” Gamora began, appearing beside Natasha as she looked on from several paces away. In the dimness of the firelight, her cool, green skin was a warm brown. “For some of them, burning bodies after death is an important ritual for their people to honour their fallen warriors. They believe only fire can cleanse the soul and deliver it from the underworld.” A hesitant lapse separated her words from her next phrase, “I don’t know if they fully believe that anymore, but this place has already taken too much from them.” Her bottom lip curved upward a tad, “They call us the Tribe of Lost Souls.”</p><p>“They died fighting Devondra.” Natasha jerked her chin in the direction of the pile of burning limbs and weapons. Her intonation presented the words as less of a question, and more a statement.</p><p>Gamora nodded. “They realize the survival of our souls is tied to this valley, and those of us left would die trying to defend it. And sometimes, a sacrifice is all that keeps the flames at bay...” She gestured to the pit with her chin, “They never let it burn for more than a few minutes...They fear what follows.”</p><p>With a lingering glance at the flame, Natasha turned to her. “I want to help however I can—keep us alive for as long as possible...if that’s what we are...”</p><p>Gamora said nothing, save for a solemn smile. She knew that as she absorbed the spectacle in front of her, Natasha understood the implications, and the alternative; that this was a hopeless endeavour. “I can tell you were a great Terran warrior. This valley will be graced to have had you walk its soil.” Natasha reciprocated the smile.</p><p>When the orange embers were no more than smoke wafting against the night sky like stardust, Gamora took her to a place inside one of the huts where she could settle in for the night. As they passed by the charred pit, Natasha caught a glance of one of the mourners, who appeared to have sliced off a piece of one of the charred limbs, and was consuming it like it was the last source of sustenance in existence. She shuddered. </p><p>***</p><p>When she was alone, she laid her few belongings onto the dusty floor beneath a peeling wooden frame and pile of tattered linens. The quarters were tight, and stark, but still, better than settling in a pile of rubble—if for no other reason than the fact that there were now others in close proximity. The thought alone made her heart swell.</p><p>She sat back onto the makeshift cot twiddling the tiny radio in her hand, and with her arms hugging her knees, pressed the button. “You won’t believe it,” she croaked, forcing a faint smile, “I found others...I’m not alone anymore. And, in practically the same breath that I found out I might not actually be...dead, I learned that...I <em>am</em> dying.” She paused when she felt herself beginning to stutter. </p><p>Then she stood in a haste, padding back outside into the night air until she felt cool air fill her lungs again. Mostly everyone was inside and asleep, save for a few guards posted on watch, several tens of metres away, but they paid Natasha no mind. She plopped down on the tall grass, with a clear view of the stars above. </p><p>“I don’t know what happens to my soul after this—we won’t survive here for much longer. But we’re gonna fight it off as long as we can. I just—“ she began to choke up over her words, “I think I’m actually terrified,” her voice hitched and sobs overtook her, “...and I just wanted somebody out there to know that we’re <em>here</em>.” She took a shaky breath, “And I wanted to tell you that I know—I know that you undid it all, and I’m so proud,” her sobs evolved into soft laughter, tears beginning to blur her vision of the silhouette of trees in front of her. </p><p>When her chest stilled she continued, “I don’t know why I’m even pretending that there’s someone on the other end of this right now, at the right <em>time</em>. You could be dust in the earth, or it could be centuries before you even existed. <em>God</em>, there’s so many variables...so much we were never ready to know about the universe...and that I still can’t begin to comprehend.” She huffed out a hitched breath, her brain catching up with her train of thought in an almost apathetic tone. “No one’s listening to this, I know that. All these messages are just...drifting...” she stared into a foreign sky. “I’d just give anything to hear your voices one last time.”</p><p>“There’s one more thing.” She piped up with a final thought, her voice almost jarring as it pierced through the silent veil of the night, “You need to tell Rocket—tell Rocket and Nebula that Gamora is here. She’s alive.” She could feel the power of the battery beginning to dwindle. She realized that these quiet moments of being able to talk to the others to keep herself sane were just another fleeting luxury. She took one last look at the foreign map of stars before crawling back into the hovel. Her last memory was the trained sight of the dank wall in front of her, Steve’s shield draped over her curled up form.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>They were back in hell; she, Steve and Sam, huddled inside that weathered old barn, beside a dying roast of warmth sustained by a pile of dilapidated floor boards. Natasha felt a chill in her bones, as the cold night air leeched its way in through all of the cracks in their plans. As the hours passed, she felt as if they were slowly suffocating on it—the condensation of their failures. This was arguably one of their lowest points, with both the UN, and now an archaic Soviet terrorist cell hot on their trail. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>They were situated in a valley outside of Kavak; land of mostly plateaus and soft rolling hills, with minimal shrubs and trees left blanketing the ruined buildings; once old farmlands ravaged to ruin by conflict. They were miles from any civilization.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Every so often, grenades cascaded from above, sending shock waves rippling through the dusty earth, and just when the cacophony outside seemed it would begin to cease, another one followed to remind them that they were trapped in this position, with mortality closing in like a fist. “There’s only one way this ends,” Sam uttered with an exhausted waver into the grey haze of dust and night, referring ominously to the ultimate concession that they were all so afraid of conceding to. He sat keeled toward the lick of the flames, clutching at a minor gunshot wound at his side. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natasha could feel the implication of Sam’s gaze, and the sweat beading across his skin, despite barely being able to parse his features in the dim firelight. Moments earlier, she and Steve had cauterized the small wound with nothing but a grappling hook and a torn windbreaker. The smell of burnt flesh still lingered in her nostrils.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Finally, the swish of her limbs untangling themselves from her huddled position on the floor next to him broke the silence. She abruptly lunged for her flare gun, peddling across the tight space.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” She felt Steve stand and yank her arm back toward his body from behind her. She spun from the force, now facing him in his grasp, brushing against the matted fabric of his uniform.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We’re not staying here...not like this,” she declared, her jaw clenched, lightly shaking her head.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sit down.” It wasn’t a plea. She could make out his piercing eyes in the blackness, peering into her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We’re not dying like this, after everything we’ve been through...Sam’s not—“ she bit off with slightly more vigor, the stress having its way with her resolve. </em>
</p><p><em>“The </em>only<em> way we have any shot of getting out of this is to ride it out until the sun comes up. They have to run out of fire at some point.”</em></p><p><em>“And if they don’t stop at sunrise?” She cocked her head to the side, “We’ve exhausted all of our supplies, Steve...I can turn our thirty percent chance of surviving long enough to see the daybreak into a sixty percent chance of at least two of us making it out of this in one piece. Just...let me </em>go<em>,” she huffed the last bit, attempting to writhe free from his grasp.</em></p><p>
  <em>He was unmoved, “If you think I’m letting you walk outside without a fight...” she felt his hold on her tighten, as she sensed his jaw clench. “...You’re insane.”</em>
</p><p><em>She paused in defeat, addressing both of them with the movement of her jawline. “You both know damn well our window for a diversion play is slipping. We can </em>only<em> call this now, while it's still dark.” After a brief pause she continued, her voice low and quiet, after the boom of another grenade being dropped several hundred metres away thundered in the distance. “How long you think he’s got here, without antibiotics?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“No,” Sam heaved out. He sat with slumped shoulders, on the precipice of fully giving in to sleep, “Whatever’s gonna happen to us is gonna happen. I know what I signed up for, and so do both of you. But we stick together no matter what.” She could feel Steve begin to relinquish his hold as she heard him shift in Sam’s direction; his fingers now gently hovering over her forearms. They could feel Sam force himself to sit up slightly, “Nat, I know you got this thing...you think you’re expendable, but you’re not, okay?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She nodded through misty eyes as she absorbed his words, even though Sam couldn’t see it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She felt Steve give her arm a light, comforting squeeze, as he coaxed her back into a sitting position on the floor. She scooted closer to Sam so she could tenderly pat an arm around his shoulder, whilst not relinquishing her hold on Steve’s hand in the other. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m gonna sleep now,” Sam mumbled after what felt like several minutes. He reached behind him for his utility bag and propped it under his head like a pillow. “Don’t you worry that I won’t wake up or something,” he added with a lighter air. “This is just a graze, I’m gonna be just fine.” The words were as much for his own morale as they were intended to quell Natasha and Steve’s worries.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"If shit hits the fan even more than it already is—you can't run." Natasha pointed out solemnly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sam scoffed with the faintest hint of a chuckle. "And you think tossing yourself at 'em guns a-blazing is gonna make things better? Real W." She heard Steve let out a light huff of agreement.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I want to keep you both alive. I don't care what happens to me." She punctuated the confession with a slump of her neck, which Steve took as an invitation to rub comforting circles across her shoulders and neck.</em>
</p><p><em>"We fight for each other." Steve concluded with his usual sure and strong tone, "We'll get out of this—because it's </em>us<em>." The last few words escaped as a slew of breaths nearly against her ear, and that bled into the empty space enveloping them. Her eyes fluttered closed as she accepted his comforting mantra.</em></p><p>
  <em>They said nothing. Natasha leaned into the side of Steve’s chest as she watched Sam fidget in front of her with a concerned gaze. She hadn’t realized how instinctual their position felt, how effortlessly she suddenly clung to him for comfort. She fixated on Steve's scent now; he smelled of fresh earth, and pastoral pine boughs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Another grenade sounded after another period of inactivity, jolting them from their mutual reverie. “Fuck,” Steve bit off under his breath. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Screw it,” she heard Sam mumble again. He reached behind him to pull something out of his bag, and then he was setting the mp3 player onto the open floor next to him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sam—“ Steve began to warn, regarding the likelihood of the sound being audible outside the tattered walls.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sam waved him off with subtle gesturing and started the slow, melancholy beat. "One song." The soft bars trickled from the device, barely audible outside the range of the small flame’s light. For just a brief instance, Natasha could feel the chaos surrounding them slowly drifting out of significance. She smiled with a graceful curve of her lip, as she relaxed her frame against Steve’s arm.</em>
</p><p>I'd rather live outside<br/>
I'd rather go to jail<br/>
I've tried hell<br/>
It's a loop<br/>
What would you recommend I do?<br/>
And the other side of a loop is a loop</p><p>This is not my life<br/>
It's just a fond farewell to a friend</p><p>
  <em>She could parse out Steve's faint heartbeat in the stillness, as she allowed her neck to sway ever so faintly in tandem to the rhythm. The three of them sat like statues, never dropping their guard, but a fully united front in their quest to not fall concession to the darkness.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She was about to whisper to Sam, to see if he had finally drifted off, when almost instinctively, he piped up again, his words low and hushed. “Natasha?” She answered with a mumbled “hmmn?” He resumed his thought, “One day, I hope I can make you see it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When she said nothing, his soft, hazy voice spoke into the void once more before finally giving in to sleep, “...How significant you actually are—how much this world needs you...and so do I.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She lightly choked out a gasp as her heart swelled with warmth. Steve's fingers quelled their soothing motions and settled at her nape. And then she smiled as it became apparent that the space around them was suddenly silent, save for Sam’s peaceful, even breaths.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>***</em>
</p><p>Sunlight peered into the small hole-like window of the tight hovel. She opened her eyes to an organically structured slab of stone and mortar. The revelations of the previous night came crashing back in, sending with them a sinking levelling of anxiousness. </p><p>As if by instinct, Gamora appeared then through the archway, carrying a bowl of food that Natasha couldn’t identify. “Brought you some breakfast,” she stated plainly, handing her the bowl. Natasha accepted it, taking a moment to stare at the brownish sludge. She was suddenly overcome with the mental image of the cannibal from the previous night. </p><p>Gamora raised a brow, “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing, I—I just...I saw them last night...with the remains...”</p><p>The green girl’s eyes grew wider with realization. “You saw...that...rather <em>new</em> part of the ritual.” She noticed Natasha’s eyes still trained on her, “there’s...none of it in this,” she gestured reassuringly with a leveled tone, “that’s a stew of weeds and fungi.”</p><p>With eyes still trained, Natasha finally leaned in and took a bite. She winced briefly at the bitterness of the initial taste. </p><p>Gamora sighed, “I told you that sometimes a sacrifice of one of our own is all that will send Devondra away. It grows more powerful...its periods of retreat more fleeting—we don’t see any more animals in the valley...it grows sterile as we grow weak. And if a sacrifice should spare a physical body...well we don’t let any of what little we have go to waste.” Natasha shuddered again. “Do you understand now, what we are truly fighting?” </p><p>Natasha nodded, and with wide eyes muttered a simple, “I’m sorry.” After a pause she continued following the chain of thoughts ravaging her brain. “I think you’re wrong about the animals though," she quipped with a lighter demeanor, "Saw that bird,” she shrugged with a partial mouthful. She could sense Gamora’s thoughts lingering on her words, but the alien said nothing more.</p><p>They emerged from the hovel into the morning air, scanning the busy figures moving about the clearing. She watched Gamora approach another teal-skinned alien who appeared to be storing rations, as he motioned her over. Natasha trotted behind in pursuit. </p><p>“We are losing rations quickly, Gamora...At this rate, we will starve before Devondra takes us all, unless we move to one third.”</p><p>She shrugged, “Why tell me? Thelos is in charge.”</p><p>You know what has to happen,” he ignored her comment, peering into her with a deep stare. “It is time. Today we cut <em>him</em> off.”</p><p>Gamora nodded solemnly, and in agreement.</p><p>“<em>Him?</em>” Natasha parroted, glancing between the two figures for elaboration.</p><p>Gamora met her gaze and answered plainly. “Thanos.”</p>
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